Lights Will Guide You Home
by TheTrickyOwl
Summary: Post World War II AU. Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton has been struggling with his own nightmares long after the end of the second world war, but could the young brother of a fallen comrade be the peace he's sought for so long? Gabriel/Sam Winchester
1. Part 1

The sounds of the battlefield continued to replay in the mind of Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton long after the Second World War had ended. In the late hours of the night, when the world had fallen into a peaceful silence that he and his comrades had fought to achieve; when the crickets chirped and children nestled in their mother's bosoms, Gabriel would sit awake in his bed, hands folded over his ears as he tried desperately to banish the memories away. The shouts of his brothers, the blast of gunfire and the growl of tank engines were loud in his head, as though the very war was taking place right there in his small bedroom.

It had been close to two months since he'd returned home from battle, and not a single night went by where he got a decent amount of sleep. The voices, the faces, the laughter and screams of the men he'd fought long and hard with haunted him. An unseen phantom with a relentless cause.

A silver flask of whiskey was constantly hidden under his pillow, and he drew the thing out to take a long hard swig from it, but the damn thing was empty. Huffing a sigh, Gabriel tossed the sheets off of his naked body and rose out of bed, hissing slightly when a sharp shot of pain ran up his thigh from his knee. Goosebumps prickled all over his flesh as it was exposed to the cool air. There was a bottle of bourbon and a glass sitting on his dresser, and he limped over to fetch it, thankful that the journey was short. The splash of the liquor filling the glass was the only sound that filled the silence of the room, and Gabriel knocked it back as though it were water, basking in the warmth that pooled in his belly as the bourbon slid down his throat.

He risked a glance up toward the mirror hanging above his dresser, and hardly recognized the man staring back at him. He'd lost quite a bit of weight during the war, with food not exactly being the most plentiful thing. His muscle tone had grown, especially where his chest and arms were concerned, but his face was leaner, his body narrower. Heavy bags were beginning to swell beneath each of his warm, amber coloured eyes, and his silken caramel hair was stringy and matted with the cold sweat that always followed his nightly terrors.

Upon his third glassful, he returned to his bed and settled back down with his booze. The mattress squeaked under his weight. Gabriel had lost so many friends in that God-forsaken war. So many men he considered brothers. Thousands of lives had been taken during those battles. He'd been one of the very few in his Company who'd returned home safely.

Lips still hovered around the cool brim of his glass, Gabriel's amber eyes glided across the dark, moonlit bedroom to the olive green jacket hanging on the doorknob of his closet. It was ratty, needed some patchwork done, but the damn thing was the reason he still had two legs.

The jacket had belonged to a dear friend and fellow comrade of his: Captain Dean Winchester; a respectable, strong, hard-ass of a man who Gabriel had grown to love like a brother. During a battle deep in the heart of the French countryside, Gabriel had been shot in the kneecap while moving between trenches. It was Dean who'd torn off his jacket and used it as a tourniquet on the wound to control the amount of blood loss, which had ended up saving not only Gabriel's leg, but his life as well.

Gabriel had meant to return it to his dear friend once he'd gotten out of the hospital and returned to the field. However, he'd soon found out that Dean had been taken down by a sniper not days before. Gabriel had held onto the jacket, planning to return it to whatever family Dean had left waiting back home. A brother by the name of Sam Winchester, from the stories Dean had shared back at base camp. Dean and Sam's mother had passed when they were but infants, and their father, who had also been a respected soldier in the US Army, had died a hero in the First World War. Sam was sent to live with their uncle when Dean was shipped overseas, as the boy hadn't been the age to be enlisted when the war had started.

Sam would want his brother's jacket. It would be wrong of Gabriel to hold onto it any longer.

Once the glass was drained for the third time and set on the nightstand by his lamp and bible, Gabriel lay back down and rubbed at his bad knee through the thin grey bed sheet, fingers feeling the raised scar through the soft cotton material. The damn thing ached constantly, especially when it was too cold or damp, and it made him walk with a prominent limp.

Still, he didn't believe it was worth the Purple Heart he had been awarded. Not after the things he'd seen. A simple shot to the leg would have been a blessing compared to the amount of blood that had stained the grasses of those fields. The wails of agony in the hospital as men had their limbs amputated, as metal shards were pulled from their legs and skulls, as bullets were dug out of their chests and necks.

Gabriel shut his eyes and rolled over onto his side, nose pressing into the cool softness of his pillow. He would have given anything just to get some rest. Anything to drive the memories away for just one night; anything to dream about the sun or the stars or, hell, a damn unicorn, instead of seeing the bright flash of bombs and the silhouettes of soldiers charging toward him.

He wanted peace. Just one night of peace.

That was at least something he deserved.

* * *

><p>The cool kiss of November wind hit Gabriel's cheeks as he slowly marched—or rather, limped—through a charming little neighbourhood in Laurence, Kansas the very next afternoon. It was bright out, as not a cloud obscured the sun in the cerulean sky above. Dried leaves skittered across the road and danced in the wind. Dean's jacket was precisely folded in his arms, cleaned of the dust, dirt, and blood that had coated the fabric.<p>

Gabriel was donned in his military attire. Pressed olive green slacks, tan tie tucked into a sharp green jacket pulled tightly to his waist by a belt, sturdy leather boots, and cap placed over his freshly showered caramel blonde hair. Various medals and honorary buttons and badges festooned the left side of the jacket, and patches were sewn onto his sleeves. Three silver stars glistened on his left shoulder, stating his commanding rank as Lieutenant General. The clothes still smelled heavily of the inside of his trunk, a musky and pleasant odour which sent Gabriel's mind reeling back to the long nights stationed in his tent, pouring over a map by flashlight, compass in one hand, beer in the other, cigarette dangling from between his lips.

He shook his head out. Even awake, his mind was merciless.

Children raced by on their bikes, laughing brightly while little plastic US flags flapped wildly from where they were taped to the backs of their seats. Gabriel felt the smallest smile tug at the corners of his lips, and the warmth of pride swell in his chest. It was because of him, his Company, the men who fought valiantly and died heroes, that allowed the children of this country to play in the streets. Their freedom, their smiles, was worth the pain.

Reaching into the back pocket of his trousers, Gabriel pulled out the crinkled piece of paper where he had scribbled the address to Dean's uncle's house. He squinted through the brightness, pace slowing as he read the house numbers in an attempt to find the right one. It had to be around here…

There.

Gabriel stopped outside a little blue house and rested his hip against the rickety wooden fence surrounding the property. It was a quaint little home, but it was definitely missing the caring touch of a woman. The paint was chipping off the white shutters, the flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds. The scent of apple pie should have been wafting out from the kitchen window, but all Gabriel could scent was oil and gasoline from the garage. It was unsurprising, though, as Gabriel recalled Dean mentioning that his aunt had passed away many years ago.

Before heading to the porch, Gabriel made sure to smooth out the wrinkles of the jacket, fussing a little with a too-loose button and the way the collar would stubbornly fold in the wrong direction. He limped up the porch steps, boots sounding like thunder against the wood, then lifted his fist to the door and knocked.

Gabriel could distinctly hear the faint sound of approaching footsteps, and a muffled 'I'll get it!" from a young man's voice beyond the door. He stood at attention, spine straight and shoulders still. His fingers gave the jacket's rough material one more stroke, a final farewell to the only piece he had left of his best friend.

When the front door swung open, Gabriel was met with a pair of bright almond-shaped hazel eyes, and the curious and strikingly handsome face of a young man. The boy was tall. Very tall, towering well over Gabriel's head with broad shoulders and long legs, which was a shock given the fact that Gabriel was nearly thirty, and this boy had to be a good ten years younger than he was. His hair was a shag of chocolate brown locks that looked soft to the touch, and he wore a deep blue sweater and pressed tan slacks over his strong frame.

Gabriel honestly prayed to whatever deity that cared to listen that he wasn't staring.

Jesus Christ, this kid was gorgeous.

The boy visibly swallowed once he took in Gabriel's attire and realized what he was. "Um… Can I help you?"

"Are you Sam Winchester?" Gabriel asked, an unexpected softness in his tone.

The boy nodded, his eyes flicking from Gabriel's face to the folded mound of green fabric tucked safely in his arms. He looked like he was trapped between being curious and being terrified, which was understandable. News of Dean's death had been brought to the family only three months before, and that strike to the heart was already enough weight to bear, and the last thing they wanted was another one.

"I'm Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton. I was one of the commanding officers of Company F, and I was a close friend of your brother Dean," he cleared his throat and held the jacket out to the boy. "This belonged to him. I thought it my duty to return it to where it rightfully belongs."

Sam hesitated a few moments, before taking the jacket in his large, shaky hands. He handled it with such care, as though the fabric would unravel and fall apart if he held on too tightly. He brought the jacket to his nose and breathed it in deeply. Gabriel knew that, even after he had the thing professionally cleaned to rid it of bloodstains and mud, the jacket still smelled heavily of Dean's musk.

Sam's voice was clogged with emotion, hazel eyes shimmering with moisture as he looked down at Gabriel. "…Thank…" he cleared his throat. "…t-thank you, sir."

"Gabriel. Just call me Gabriel." He offered a kind smile.

Sam's hazel eyes sparkled, the name rolling off his lips so perfectly. "Gabriel."

"Captain Dean Winchester was a wonderful man. Good soldier, fierce fighter. Complete hard-ass with total disregard for my orders, but his heart was in the right place." They shared a soft laugh. "He died a hero, Sam, and I am terribly sorry that you and your family must feel this loss. Understand that I, too, grieve his death. He saved my life using that jacket, and I was never given the chance to return it to him."

Sam stroked at the jacket that he held so closely to his chest, fingers long and thin and, frankly, rather lovely. A man with beautiful hands. Who'da thunk?

"It means a lot to me that you took the time to return this, sir—" He caught himself. "…Gabriel."

"Wasn't a problem. I live only the next town over. Took a bus." Gabriel shifted his weight onto his other foot when his knee began to strain and ache. He nodded once. "I suppose I'll take my leave, now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sam."

When he extended his hand, Sam just stared at it with a frown, then motioned back inside. "Would… would you like to come in for a beer or something? I'd hate to know you came all this way for a five minute conversation, and then had to go back." His eyes dropped. "I mean, if you're not busy or anything."

Gabriel considered the offer for a moment, and then smiled softly. "I suppose I could use a beer or two."

For the first time since their meeting, Sam smiled at Gabriel, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks, and soft crinkles at the very corners of his eyes, and damn it if Gabriel's heart didn't just do a back flip right inside his chest. There could not possibly be a chance for this boy to look any more beautiful than he just did. When Sam stepped aside and held the front door open, Gabriel nodded in thanks and made his way into the house. He removed his lieutenant's cap, out of respect, and pushed his fingers back through his silken hair to smooth it down again.

The main hallway was narrow, causing Gabriel to wonder how on earth Sam could manoeuvre his way through it with those big shoulders of his. The walls were decorated with soft green striped wallpaper that continued down into the den, and adorned with white baseboards and door castings. The pine floor squeaked under the weight of Gabriel's boots. Black and white framed photographs were hung on both walls, and a small, dusty table stood against the left wall next to the coat rack.

Gabriel limped over to one of the photographs above the table, the smiling man within it instantly recognizable. Dean was donned in his uniform, a toothy grin spread across his freckled face. So full of light and promise. A damn shame.

"That was taken right before he was shipped out," Sam said quietly from behind him.

Gabriel nodded before glancing over his shoulder at the boy. "Your brother would smile like this every damn day at camp. No matter how miserable the training was, or how tired or sore or wet he was, Dean would keep that goofy grin plastered on his mug. I almost slapped it off him more than once."

Sam laughed, eyes fixed on the jacket in his hands. "Sounds like him."

Reaching a hand back, Gabriel squeezed Sam's shoulder, the gesture one of comfort and understanding, despite the fact that part of Gabriel's focus was on the firm muscle hidden beneath the woollen fabric.

Sam offered him a smile of thanks, those dimples showing again, before moving forward and setting the jacket on the table below the hung picture. A sort of honorary shrine. He sighed heavily, and then motioned with his head. "C'mon. There are a few cold beers left in the fridge with our names on them."

With Sam leading the way, Gabriel made his way down to the kitchen, enjoying the scent of the place. It smelled of age and dust, of cooked meals and fires crackling in the hearth. It smelled like a home. The kitchen was fairly large, with soft yellow cabinets and deep blue linoleum floors that glistened in the light shining in through the large window. Plaid blue draperies hung to each side of the window, which was set in a quaint little breakfast nook just passed an arched doorway by the cabinets.

Gabriel set his hat on the dark brown counter tops, and took a seat at the table. He huffed a deep sigh of relief, and rubbed at his leg through his trousers. It throbbed like a son of a bitch from all the walking he was doing. Damn thing made him feel twice as old as he actually was.

Sam popped the fridge open and reached in to pluck two beers off the shelf. "If you don't mind me asking…" He nudged the door shut with his hip. "How'd you get that limp?"

Gabriel reached out and accepted a beer when it was handed to him. "Couple of soldiers and I were booking it between trenches when a tank headed our way. There were bullets flyin' everywhere. One of them even ricocheted off a damn helmet. That son of a bitch had a rabbit's foot in his ass that day, I tell ya." Gabriel chuckled. "We were close to our target, when one of the bastards nails me right in the kneecap. I went down hard, blood everywhere. I was certain I'd either die or lose the damn leg, but your brother acted quickly. Sharp thinker, that one. He ripped off his jacket and tied it around my leg to stop the bleeding. They were able to save the leg at the hospital, but the bullet pretty much exploded once it made contact with the bone, and there are still shards of it left inside me. I won't be able to walk proper anytime soon."

Sam took a swig of his beer and leaned back against the counter, ankles crossing. "That's… that's incredible. I never knew Dean had it in him to think that quickly."

"You gotta in the battlefield, kiddo," Gabriel swirled the beer in his bottle before knocking back a large gulp of it. "The enemy doesn't just sit back and wait for you to figure out your next move." He pressed his lips into a thin line, then shook his head out and set his half-empty bottle onto the table.

Talking about these kinds of things was pretty much inviting the night terrors back in. He needed to learn to quit thinking about it.

God, he just wanted sleep.

The pounding of approaching footsteps brought Gabriel's head up, and he watched as an older, gruff-looking man entered the kitchen, his bearded face smeared in car grease and a filthy rag clutched between two bear-like hands. He must've just come from the garage. He paused in the doorway, staring between Sam and Gabriel from beneath bushy brows that were drawn tight in confusion.

Sam set his beer down on the counter and motioned over to the soldier at the table. "Oh, uh… Uncle Bobby, this is Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton. He was a close friend of Dean's."

Gabriel rose to attention and extended his hand in greeting, happy when the older man grasped it tightly and shook it. He could feel the grease on his hands, smell the whiskey and tobacco and motor oil on his body. It reminded Gabriel of the way his own father used to smell, God rest the poor bastard's soul. He wasn't the most attentive or compassionate guy to have as a dad.

"It's a pleasure, Lieutenant." Bobby's voice was rough and deep, but carried the kind of genuine warmth that told Gabriel that this man was not as hard-edged as he appeared to be. Though, he may be reluctant to show it in front of just anyone.

"The pleasure is all mine, sir. And please, call me Gabriel." Gabriel smiled faintly. "My deepest condolences on the loss of your nephew. Dean was a fine soldier. I had actually come by to return a jacket of his."

Bobby nodded, refusing to release Gabriel's hand. Instead, he closed his other hand overtop it and gave it a pat. The man was shaking. Amber eyes flickered over to Sam, who was watching, expression nothing short of heartbreaking.

Goddamn the things that war did to little broken families like this.

"You're a good man for coming all this way," Bobby cleared the emotion from his throat and finally stepped back, wiping his face clear of pain. His eyes, on the other hand, spoke differently.

Gabriel shook his head. "I live just across town, sir. My folks and I are originally from Nashville, but I moved over here before the war began. I find this place a bit quieter, and, frankly, it's a real nice change of pace."

"I bet," Bobby took a beer for himself.

Upon looking at the time, Gabriel scooped up his lieutenant's cap from the counter top and placed it snugly back on his head. "I should be on my way. I've a couple other things that need attending to. Thank you kindly for the beer."

"Anytime," Bobby said. "If you ever want to drop by again, hopefully under better circumstances, you're more than welcome to."

Gabriel was honestly surprised at that. "Really?"

Bobby nodded his head once the cap of his beer was twisted open and he took a swig. "You busy this weekend? Sam and I usually have a nice dinner Friday night, and we wouldn't mind having another spot at the table filled." There was sadness in his tone, and he dropped his hazel eyes to the linoleum floor. "Seems like there are more and more empty chairs appearing as each damn year passes by."

"I'd be happy to join you both for dinner," Gabriel kept his tone light, sympathizing with the man. "Anything you'd like me to bring?"

"Empty stomach and some good war stories will do, if ya don't mind?" Bobby asked sincerely. "I'd love to hear more about Dean down at the camp. Y'know, to keep his memory alive and all."

"What time?"

"We eat at six sharp, but you're welcome to come earlier if you'd like."

Gabriel clapped the man's shoulder. "Count me in."

Sam, who had been watching the entire exchange silently, pushed off the kitchen counter and came forward. He paused, shoulder brushing against that of the soldier's, and spoke softly. "I'll walk you out, Gabriel."

The two men exchanged a smile and a nod of farewell, before Gabriel turned and followed Sam back down the narrow hallway. However, before reaching the front door, Gabriel took a moment to stop before the photograph of Dean, and salute. It was the respectful thing to do, and it made his throat clench up tightly, to the point where he couldn't even utter a goodbye to his friend. He just turned, adjusted his cap, and limped for the door.

Sam had the thing held open for him, allowing the chill November air to fill the hallway. "He doesn't do that, you know. Not anymore, at least."

Gabriel locked his eyes, face distorted in confusion. "Doesn't do what?"

"Have special dinners on Fridays," Sam looked close to tears again. "Not since Dean passed away. It used to be a regular thing, all of us, and my aunt, but it stopped once it was just him and I left standing. This'll be the first Friday in three months that we do that again."

Gabriel was taken aback. "Well… It'll be an honour to be part of it."

He was suddenly drawn against a warm, firm body, and hugged so tightly that it squeezed the very breath from his lungs. Gabriel stiffened, struck silent as Sam's huge arms wrapped around him and squeezed, face nestled so deeply into the woollen fabric covering the boy's chest that it knocked his cap sideways. It only took a moment to register the sudden action, and then Gabriel was returning the embrace with equal ferocity.

He could hear the pounding of Sam's heart, breathe in the scent of musk and mint that wafted up so strongly from his body.

"Thank you…" Sam whispered shakily, his breath hot as it fluttered over Gabriel's hair. "You've been here not twenty minutes, and everything is already starting to feel better."

"Soldier's job, kiddo," Gabriel said, voice muffled in Sam's chest. "We help people."

It felt like an eternity before Sam pulled back and offered him a weak, if not shy smile. Gabriel quickly fixed his askew cap, his own expression mirroring that of the young man before him.

"So… um, we'll see you Friday, then?" Sam asked, the ghost of a blush hitting his cheeks.

"Friday," Warmth filled Gabriel's chest when he saw how flustered the boy had become. He winked, and then turned away, marching down the wooden porch steps. "Have yourself a good day, Sam Winchester."

Making the slow journey back to the bus stop, Gabriel couldn't help but notice that this was the best he's felt in a good long time.


	2. Part 2

By the time Friday rolled in, a delicate snow had begun to fall over the town of Laurence, Kansas, coating the ground in a thick, fluffy blanket of white that shimmered under the light of the moon like a million fragile diamonds. The little house was warm, cozy; a fire crackling in the hearth within the den, and a roast ham filling the halls and rooms with its scent as it cooked slowly in the oven. Sam Winchester was bundled up in one of his favourite wool sweaters; soft grey in colour, with a red argyle pattern running straight across the chest. It was a tad worn, the wool beginning to fray at the sleeves, and a small hole growing near the neckline.

He'd never throw it away, though. It had been a gift from Dean a few Christmas' back, thankfully after Sam's sudden growth spurt. There was no way in hell that he'd get rid of one of the last gifts from his big brother.

Bobby was in the den, reading quietly while he waited for the timer to go off in the oven so that he could baste the ham in the sweet juices it was cooking in. Passing the front door, Sam paused and peered through the small window. It was really coming down outside, with the snowflakes whipping and dancing in the strong wind, looking like sparkling dust under the light of a streetlamp. He hoped that Gabriel would be able to make it to the house all right with that limp of his.

Who the hell was he kidding? The man was a soldier. A damn Lieutenant General. He trudged through muddy trenches, carrying a good twenty-five pounds of equipment on his body. A little snow and a sore leg would be nothing in comparison.

Damn it, how he respected that man.

Sam checked the clock on the wall. Five-thirty in the evening. Still plenty of time for Gabriel to make his way here from the bus stop.

He turned, then, and marched up the stairs while attempting to divert his eyes away from the jacket still neatly folded on the table right below the hanging photograph of his deceased older brother. Every time he looked at the thing for too long, or brushed his fingers against the fabric, a lump would form in Sam's throat and he'd have to do everything he could from right out sobbing. He was positive he'd cried out every last drop from his body, but more always seemed to come.

The old wooden stairs groaned under the boy's weight, and his long legs allowed him to take two at a time until he reached the little hallway which led to the bedrooms. He moved slowly, fingertips running over the crown moulding on the wall, feeling every ridge and bump and patch where the white paint had chipped away. Dean's room was at the very end of the hall, the door always shut. Sam hadn't gone in there since the news had been brought to him. Frankly, he was terrified to.

He halted outside the door, hazel eyes running over the painted doorframe. There was a large chunk taken out of it from when Dean had lugged in the frame for his new bed and accidentally bumped it, and some faint greasy fingerprints smeared onto the door from the time Dean had come in after assisting his uncle with the car. Neither Sam nor Bobby had bothered to clean it. It would be like wiping away a part of Dean's memory.

Hands shaking, Sam placed his fingers on the cold metal door handle, but didn't turn it. His heart was racing a mile a minute, pattering until he was sure his ribcage was rattling in his chest cavity.

Sam wasn't sure why he did this every day. Why he'd walk up to the door of Dean's bedroom, grip the handle, but never go inside. He was scared, so Goddamn scared of what he knew was beyond that door. Dean's room was exactly the way he'd left it before being shipped out, save for his army trunk, which had been brought to them after Dean's passing. Bobby had been the one to put it in there. Sam just couldn't handle it. Dean's bed would be poorly made, he'd have his clothes lying in a heap on the floor, and a couple of pin-up girl posters pinned on the walls around his bed. It would feel like him, smell like him. It'd be as though he'd just been in there only moments before.

Sam… couldn't handle that right now.

With a shaky breath, Sam released his hold on the door handle, and staggered across the hall to his own bedroom. It was dark inside, as he'd forgotten to flick on the lamp at the side table, but the moonlight that managed to pierce through the curtains allowed him to enter without fear of crashing into something. He kicked the door gently shut behind him, shutting out the scent of the ham and the sound of Bobby moving around the kitchen downstairs. Back pressed to the wall, Sam covered his face with his large hands and choked back the sob that threatened to break free.

He could feel the tears. Feel them build at the very corners of his eyes and slowly burn at them until the room became a blur. He could feel his stomach knot up, his throat close. He was shaking, and as the tears finally began to spill over and run down his face in thin streams, Sam lost all control. He softly began to weep into the palms of his hands.

Sam choked through his tears, the wretched emotion leaving him in loud, pitiful sobs. He wanted his brother. He wanted Dean. He couldn't do this without him. Couldn't do a damn thing without him.

It had always been him and Dean. Always. One was not whole without the other. He had no mom, no dad. Sam didn't know what to do with himself without his brother.

Sam wasn't sure how long he cried for, but by the time he stopped, his throat was sore, his eyes were red and puffy, and he'd somehow managed to end up sitting on the bedroom floor with his back pressed up against the door. He had his knees tucked right up against his chest, and he hugged them close like a child would. This was his nightly routine. It would happen once, sometimes twice in a day. All that escaped Sam as he stared across the room at the window were some sniffles, a small whimper, a shudder or two. His head began to pound furiously.

Or, maybe that was the door…

He lifted his head, listening intently at the loud knocking coming from downstairs. There was a moment of silence, and then shuffled footsteps as Bobby let out a rough "I'm comin', I'm comin'." Sam wiped his cheeks dry with the sleeves of his sweater and lifted his weight off the floor. Standing, he pulled open his bedroom door and walked out into the hallway, where he peered down over the banister and watched as Bobby opened the front door.

The figure that limped in was more snow than man. The dusty white powder covered him from head to toe, clinging to his hair and clothes, and piling on each of his shoulders. Sam couldn't help but smile softly to himself as the figure, who just happened to be Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton under all that snow, shook the flurries from his hair.

"Damn, it's really coming down out there," Gabriel said with chattered teeth.

"I'd say. You're covered in the stuff." Bobby shut the front door quickly, to prevent any of the warmth from escaping the house. "Thought a snowman was trying to get inside for a minute there."

Gabriel's laugh was like the sun had just walked in. Bright, warm, dazzling.

Beautiful.

Sam moved so that he was standing at the very top of the stairs, but he didn't go down just yet. Instead, he watched as Gabriel kicked off his boots and set them by the door to dry, and removed his jacket. It was a gorgeous piece of clothing, made of thick brown leather, with soft light-coloured fur surrounding the collar. Looked like a military pilot's jacket. What Gabriel wore beneath, however, made Sam's mouth go dry.

The man may have looked stunning in his uniform, but there was absolutely no contest in comparison to this. Gabriel was donned in a burgundy button-down tucked into thin, dark trousers, and a sharp black blazer, which he'd left open. His caramel blonde hair was combed back from his face, to fall in soft waves at the back of his neck. The look was simple, sophisticated, and Sam was glad that Gabriel hadn't spotted him, yet. He wanted to keep staring at the soldier for a few moments longer.

"Glad you could make it, Lieutenant." Bobby said, taking Gabriel's jacket to hang on the coat rack by the table. "Ham's almost finished, but can I get you anything in the meantime? Beer, maybe?"

"Beer's always good," Gabriel nodded.

As Bobby disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the drink, the soldier limped up to the table, and gazed thoughtfully up at Dean's portrait. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his blazer, and there was sadness in his eyes while he looked upon one of the last photographs of his best friend. Sadness and fondness, especially as Gabriel's hand came up and settled itself on the jacket.

"Miss ya, Deano," The soldier said softly, but loud enough for Sam to hear and feel his heart clench tightly in his chest, as though it were trapped in a vice and straining for release.

Bobby returned with a bottle of beer not thirty seconds later, and handed it over to Gabriel, who took it thankfully. "If you're wondering where Sam is, I thought I heard him head upstairs about fifteen minutes ago. He should still be up there." Bobby cast a fleeting glance toward the staircase. "Maybe you could fetch the boy so he's not late for dinner. He tends to get distracted with his books an awful lot."

"Will do."

Gabriel thanked the other man, and headed for the staircase, only to pause at the first step once he caught sight of Sam standing at the very top. The soldier smiled; a warm one-sided smile, but Sam could barely return it. His heart was still heavy from his breakdown earlier. He felt as though he had swallowed a stone, and it had somehow gotten lodged in his throat. Gabriel must've sensed it, because he was up the stairs in seconds, despite the injury in his leg, and those bright amber eyes of his bore right into Sam's as though he had found a way to delve deep into the murkiest reaches of the boy's thoughts.

"You all right, kiddo?" He asked in a whisper.

Sam nodded, which was complete and utter BS. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm good."

Gabriel's expression became stern, frighteningly so, which made Sam wonder how much the guy must've scared the crap out of the soldier's he had commanded. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm fine…" Sam swallowed hard. "R-really, I—"

"You're not fine, Sam." Gabriel cut him off, his tone having softened somewhat. "I know what 'not fine' looks like. I'm not fine." He leaned in close, so much so that Sam felt the warmth of his breath on his chin, smelled the spice and musk and oddly sweet scent wafting up from his body. "What's the matter, kiddo?"

Sam, having been distracted by both Gabriel's smell, and the way he stated his not being fine in such a detached manner, took a few moments before summing up a clear enough answer. He stepped backward, until his spine hit the crown moulding on the wall behind him, and turned his eyes down the hall towards the closed door of Dean's room.

Gabriel followed his line of vision, a frown creasing his brow and the corners of his amber eyes. The creases were deep, making the soldier look much older than he actually was. Made him look worn and tired, though his eyes remained sharp. "…That's Dean's room, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Sam could hardly get the word out.

"What's wrong with Dean's room, Sam?"

"I can't… I haven't been able to go in there ever since… it happened, y'know?" Sam's voice was quivering, and he wouldn't have been surprised if his hands were, too. "I want to go in. I'd like to go through his trunk. Get to know what he went through while overseas. I hate the thought of just ignoring the room every time I pass by it, but God damn it, I'm scared. I'm so scared and I just… I can't…"

Gabriel balanced his bottle of beer on the wooden banister, and then reached forward, his smaller hands suddenly finding Sam's wrists and holding them steady. His skin was soft, warm, and calloused; his grip much stronger than expected.

"Hey, easy, Sam. Take it easy. I get it." Gabriel's voice was like thick smoke, seeping into Sam's ears and clouding his mind, obscuring the surrounding world so that he heard of and thought of nothing but him. Sam stopped shaking. "I understand, but maybe the real problem is you're too scared to go in there _alone_. Grief's a bitch when facing her solo, kid. I'd know."

Sam was having a hard time concentrating, what with Gabriel's thumbs absently pressing into the pulse point of his wrist.

"Have you asked Bobby to go in there with you?" The soldier asked.

Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't want to put him through that. He already had to take Dean's trunk in there by himself."

Gabriel nodded slowly as Sam spoke, and then pressed his too-soft looking lips into a thin line. "Would you mind if I went in there with you?"

Sam blinked in surprise, the world suddenly becoming all-too clear again. He had to make sure he'd heard that right. "You'd… you'd do that?"

"Course I would. Doesn't even have to be a big thing. Hell, just opening the damn door would be progress. You don't have to go inside if you don't want to." He smiled, then, full and bright. "Baby steps. Whata'ya say?"

Sam stared at the man before him. Stared at him until he was certain this man was actually real, and not just some cruel illusion his mind had manifested before him. Gabriel certainly felt real, looked real, smelled and sounded real… Sam just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that such a selfless person could actually exist.

Then again, that was practically the definition of being a soldier.

The tears returned, and Sam had to blink them away while shaking his head through a short laugh. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Gabriel released his hold on Sam's wrists, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer. He looked almost shy, his eyes going to his shuffling feet. "Hey, my mom did name me after the Archangel Gabriel. Maybe I'm from Heaven."

Sam laughed softly, and both men turned as Bobby's voice echoed from below, calling them down to help set up for dinner. Gabriel snatched up his beer and limped down the staircase, and Sam wiped his eyes dry with the heel of his hands. He watched the soldier disappear into the kitchen, and felt something in his chest swell. A warmth, a light.

"Yeah…" He whispered. "Maybe you are."

* * *

><p>As the night progressed, the snowfall became heavier, the air colder, but the three men were so blissfully content in the warmth in the house and the surrounding company, that it was hardly noticed. The scent of ham, green beans, and apple sauce had filled the tiny kitchen, and Gabriel's stomach growled and groaned in want. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had a meal such as this. He wasn't much of a cook, himself, and the food at camp wasn't exactly five-star restaurant worthy.<p>

During the time he and Sam had set the small dining room table, the boy was busy talking about his dream of applying to Stanford University in order to become a lawyer. Gabriel could see it. The kid was bright, insightful. There was intelligence burning in those pretty hazel eyes of his. Sam would make a hell of a lawyer.

"Dean would always tease me about wanting to apply," Sam chuckled as he laid out the silverware by each plate. "I think he just didn't want me to leave the house."

"He a protective brother?" Gabriel asked, hissing as he nearly burned his fingers on a hot platter of green beans. He set the thing down quickly at the center of the table.

"Over protective," Sam said with quiet fondness. "With my dad always at work, and my mom gone, Dean practically raised me on his own when we weren't staying with my uncle. Even when I grew six inches taller than him, Dean still looked at me as the kid brother he needed to keep safe."

Gabriel wasn't surprised at that in the least. Even in the army, Dean had been extremely protective over the other troops. There was even one man, Castiel Novak was his name. He was a Sergeant in their Company; a loyal, commanding, strong soldier, and Dean had been protective of him since day one. Not that there was any need to be. Castiel could certainly hold his own on the battlefield. The man was a silent storm; quiet and fierce and terrifying with a weapon. A good kid from Pontiac, Illinois.

They were quite a pair, those two. The friendship that sparked between them, despite their rankings, was indescribable. Damn shame both of them perished, and on the same afternoon, no doubt.

Fate had a funny way of doing things.

As the three of them settled down for their meal, which was positively _phenomenal_ in Gabriel's opinion, stories of Dean's life at home and in the war were passed around the table as they toasted his memory over some ice cold beers. Gabriel made certain to avoid any and all tales that would upset either Sam or Bobby, and decided to speak of the rare and wonderful times shared amongst the troops at camp; the jokes and pranks and late night storytellings around a fire. Sam shared childhood memories, and Bobby compared Dean to their father John, and how alike they had become.

By the time their plates were cleared of food, and their beer bottles drained, the three men were dabbing the bittersweet tears from their eyes.

Closure was a slow, painful, and beautiful thing.

While Bobby slipped a pecan pie into the oven, Sam and Gabriel both tackled the dishes together; Sam washing, Gabriel drying. Bobby had insisted that Gabriel remain sitting, as he was a guest, but the soldier wouldn't have it. Outside, the snow danced against the velvet black drape that was the night sky.

"Thank you…" Sam said as he rinsed the soapy suds from the last plate and handed it over to the man next to him.

Gabriel snorted softly. "You gotta quit thankin' me, kiddo."

"I'll quit thanking when you quit doing these amazing things for my family," Sam smiled.

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder as he dried the plate and slipped it into its home in the cabinet overhead. "Don't really see me volunteering to do dishes as 'amazing', but I'll take the compliment."

"You know what I meant," Sam laughed as he bumped their hips together.

Gabriel winked, tossed the dishcloth onto the counter, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down. His blazer was draped over his seat in the dining room. He felt more comfortable without it.

"The pie should be ready in about twenty minutes," Bobby stated as he walked passed them. "You two can get comfortable. You've helped out enough."

Once the older man disappeared into the den, probably to throw more logs into the hearth, Sam turned to Gabriel. He was nervous, that much Gabriel could tell. The boy was wringing his long fingers together, shifting his weight from one foot to the other; there was even a slight glimpse of a wet pink tongue peeking out to swipe at Sam's lower lip.

Gabriel probably shouldn't have paid that much attention to it…

God. Damn.

"I'm ready." Sam said in the softest breath.

There was a long pause, and Gabriel wasn't entirely sure where Sam was going with that. He was still replaying the vision of Sam's tongue over and over again in his mind's eye. The added whisper of 'I'm ready' was really just fuelling the fire.

"Ready for what, kiddo?" The soldier slowly blinked once. Twice.

"To go to Dean's room," Sam furrowed his brows and tilted his head. "Um… I'm ready to try and go in there, if you'd like to join me."

Gabriel snapped back into reality as though he'd just received a good ol' slap to the mug. "Oh! Oh, yeah. Right, Dean's room. Right… Yeah, I'll join ya."

They marched upstairs quietly, their socked feet scuffling against the soft carpet and creaking over the wood. When Dean's bedroom was reached, they both halted, and stared at the closed door for a short while. Gabriel's eyes flitted from Sam's shaking hands, to the look of utter terror on his handsome face. Sam was watching the door handle as though the thing was ready to outright bite the guy.

Gabriel settled his hand on the small of the kid's back. "Easy… We don't have to do this if you don't want—"

"No." Sam cut him off. "I need to do this. I do."

"Alright," Gabriel nodded once, took Sam's large, soft hand in his, and settled it onto the doorknob. He kept his own hand rested over Sam's, so that when the kid was ready, they could open the bedroom door together. "You good?"

The boy audibly swallowed. "I'm good."

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be, yeah."

And with that, once the last deep breath was taken, once all chances for turning back were lost, once there was no more room for hesitation, they turned the knob at once, and swung the bedroom door wide open.


	3. Part 3

When the bedroom door slowly creaked open and eased itself to a stop, Sam felt as though the entire world was running in slow motion. His deceased brother's room was exactly the way he had left it. His bed, small and pushed against the far wall by the window, was messily made up, as though Dean had thrown the covers over it in a rush before heading out the door. There were still wrinkles in the sheets and quilt, and the pillow was lopsided. One of his favourite shirts was thrown in a heap in the middle of the floor, along with three mismatched socks and an empty bottle of whiskey. The curtains rustled softly in the breeze coming in through the window, which was opened only the tiniest crack, but the cool air in the room still did nothing to banish Dean's scent; so strong and dark and musky.

Made it feel as though he'd never left in the first place.

Made it seem like he was still alive.

Sam's heart was lurching inside his chest, the boy only vaguely aware that he was still holding tightly to Gabriel's hand. He wouldn't let it go, for if he did, he had a feeling he'd probably collapse or lose his dinner all over the hall carpet. Instead, he entwined their fingers and squeezed with all his might, his breath finally leaving him when the soldier at his side returned the squeeze just as strongly.

"You doin' okay, kiddo?" Gabriel asked softly. "You look pale."

Sam's mouth was dry, and he swiped his tongue across his lips in hopes that that would somehow allow the words to slip out. "Y-yeah… Yeah, I'm okay."

Gabriel was doing something; swiping the pad of his thumb back and forth across the back of Sam's hand. Sam barely noticed it until now. It felt nice. They stood there for some time, quiet and still, allowing their soft breaths and drumming heartbeats to be the only sound between them. Then, Sam felt a tug at his hand and, before he knew it, he was being led forward one tiny step at a time into the room. Gabriel took it slow, pulling just enough to keep him moving, but not so much as to force him inside too quickly.

Part of Sam wanted to stop and back as far out of the room as possible, and the other felt relieved to have this soldier here to guide him along. He wouldn't have been able to do this on his own. Even with Gabriel's presence, he was terrified of being in here, of confronting the all-too-real loss of his older brother. It was nice to have someone who had first-hand experience of true fear and pain to show him that everything was going to be okay.

"How you doing so far?" He heard Gabriel ask. "Still with me, Sam?"

Sam could only nod.

"You wanna stop here? We can, if you like."

"Bed…" Sam said shakily, and he wondered if he was somehow cutting off the circulation to Gabriel's hand with how tightly he was holding it. "C-can we, um, sit on the bed?"

"You betcha."

He was led across the bedroom, careful not to trip over any of the clothes that were scattered around his feet. As Sam ran his hazel eyes across the rumpled sheets on the bed, he recalled the hazy summer days where he and Dean would build forts with the quilt and pillows and pretend to be soldiers in battle, just like their dad. He remembered their wrestling matches, and the nights when a wild thunderstorm would rattle the house, and they'd curl up together under the covers until it stopped. He remembered Dean's scary stories, and how he'd allow Sam to read his books by flashlight with the sheets over his head. Sam had spent more time in this room with his big brother than his own.

It was amazing how quickly and easily everything could change.

When his legs hit the side of the mattress, Sam slowly eased himself down onto the edge of it, the bed squeaking with his added weight. Gabriel remained standing in front of him and, finally, released their hands. Sam took in a deep breath and ran his fingers across the softness of the quilt beneath him, finding a stray piece of thread and fiddling with it absentmindedly. He felt those bright, beautiful amber eyes watching him closely and patiently.

"I'd like to go through Dean's army trunk," Sam finally looked up and locked Gabriel's eyes. "Could you help me do that? I really wouldn't know what to do with most of the stuff, or what it's for."

Gabriel smiled at him in a way that reminded him of Dean. It wasn't a full and toothy smile, but it was genuine as it hit his eyes, crinkling them right at the corners. He turned, then, and limped over to the huge wooden trunk that was set right next to Dean's closet. It was a massive thing, built out of sturdy oak and metal, and looking as though it weighed a good couple hundred pounds alone. Sam was about to offer to help Gabriel in dragging it over, when the soldier grabbed hold of one of the metal handles at the side, and pulled the thing to the bed with little to no effort at all. It settled at Sam's feet with a dull thud.

"You really don't look as strong as you are." Sam couldn't help but point out.

Gabriel laughed, setting himself right next to the boy. "Years of lugging around supplies will do that to you."

Sam watched as Gabriel made quick work of unlatching the trunk, popping the lid open and pushing it back. The scent that rose up was a mixture of dust, rusting iron, and the unmistakable musk of Dean. There wasn't much inside from what Sam could see; a couple of folded uniforms in olive green, two sets of boots, a helmet, an old canteen, and some worn looking papers. Nothing overly impressive, but it just brought to light everything that his brother had gone through overseas.

"Wow…" Sam breathed.

He reached in with shaking hands, and gingerly lifted one of the uniforms from the trunk to settle it on his lap. It was wrinkled, and dusted over in some spots with dirt from the battlefield. There was a small tear one of the sleeves that looked an awful lot like it had been caused by a knife.

"Bayonet." Gabriel said, as though reading his thoughts. "Your brother dodged a nasty stab to the chest by one. It just grazed along his arm. The wound wasn't even deep enough to require stitches, and yet there were others that were only hit with shrapnel and had to stay in the medical tent for two days." He shook his head with a chuckle. "Dean was a lucky bastard most of the time."

Sam smiled and set the uniform on the bed next to him with the intention of hanging it up with the others later. He plucked the helmet from the trunk, and turned it round and round in his hands to admire it from all angles. The straps were worn from use and swayed gracefully from where they were tied. He did the same with the boots, lifting them and taking in every last bit of detail they had to offer.

None of these items were spectacular or beautiful to look at, but they had belonged to Dean, and Sam wanted to appreciate them as much as his brother had.

Gabriel reached into the trunk and pulled out what looked like a worn old photograph, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Will ya look at this."

Sam peered over at the photo in curiosity. There was a small group of men within it, all gathered together in front of a large tent. He spotted Dean instantly, standing off to the far side with one of his arms curled around the shoulders of a handsome young man with mussed black hair and a straight, proper posture. They were both grinning from ear to ear.

"This is our Company." Gabriel told Sam. "Well, some of it. These boys were the closest group of guys I'd ever had the privilege to command. Always had each other's backs."

"Who were they?" Sam asked.

Gabriel pointed to a tall, lean, and ruggedly handsome older man with short blonde hair and a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He stood with his hands in either of his pockets, and Sam could practically feel the arrogance pouring from him. "That's Balthazar. He was our weapon and explosives expert. Guy could detonate a bomb in less than three minutes. He was one of the few men in this company that came home alive, but…" He sighed. "Like most of us, the war messed with his head a bit. He's deaf in one ear, now, cause of a bomb that went off a little too close."

Sam listened intently to every word, his head practically rested on Gabriel's shoulder. The soldier didn't seem to mind.

"And this is Michael," Gabriel continued, tapping his finger over the figure of a dark-haired soldier with a stern, almost cold expression. He was striking in his looks, but he didn't seem to be the kind of man you'd like on your bad side. "Toughest son of a bitch we had. His aim with a sniper was actually terrifying. Never seen a man take such accurate shots in my entire career."

"What happened to him?" Sam whispered.

"Gunned down, ironically," Gabriel sighed. "I saw it happen while we were invading a small village up in Normandy."

"Ouch."

Gabriel motioned to a much shorter man in the middle with dark, wavy hair and a full scruffy beard. His eyes were big and bright, and he was one of the few men actually smiling in the photograph. "This here's Chuck. He was a sweet guy, and real good at strategies and map reading. Not the best with a weapon, but he was one of the quickest runners we had. Always wanted to be a writer." Gabriel shook his head. "He got shipped back home with a purple heart after his leg got blown off. I haven't heard from him since, but I hope he's finally pursuing his dream."

Sam felt a smile tug onto the corners of his lips when Gabriel's finger passed over his own image in the photo. Though one of the smaller men in the picture, there was no denying that Gabriel was a man of high ranking and command. He looked incredible, standing there on the other side of Dean with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk gracing his features.

"That's just boring old me." The soldier said.

"You look good," Sam didn't mean to say that out loud, and he fumbled with his next words while heat bloomed on his cheeks. "I-I mean, like, happy. You look happy."

Those amber eyes were watching Sam closely, and Sam could _hear_ the huge grin in Gabriel's tone. "We just got fresh boxes of chocolate imported to our camp that morning. A rare treat. I was floatin' on a cloud."

"You're a chocolate fan, huh?"

"My sweet tooth could put any child to shame, bucko." Gabriel winked, and then turned his attention back to the photograph. He tapped the image of the dark-haired man with Dean's arm slung around his shoulder. "And this is Castiel. He was one of our best shooters on the field, and he could handle a knife like a master. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was mostly to your brother." He smiled. "I tell you, those two had a hell of a friendship, Sam. One of those real special ones. Like, a bond of some sort."

Sam nodded. "I remember Dean mentioning him a bunch of times in his letters home. They seemed really close."

"Oh, they were," Gabriel dropped his shoulders, like a weight had been settled onto them. When he spoke next, there was sadness in his tone. "Dumb son of a bitch went out like a hero."

Sam was almost afraid to ask but, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"The afternoon your brother…" Gabriel cleared his throat. "The day Dean was killed, Cas was with him. I was in the hospital at the time, but the report came to me almost immediately after. Apparently, as soon as Dean went down, he rushed over to him and used his own jacket to put pressure on the bullet wound in his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Poor guy didn't care that your brother was already gone. He seemed so damn determined and desperate to save him. To bring him back if he could." Sam noticed how the soldier's hands were shaking somewhat as he held the photograph. He didn't hesitate to reach out and hold them good and tight. "A grenade was launched their way, and the group scattered, all except for Cas. It's like… he lost all purpose without his best friend. He just threw himself over your brother's lifeless body, as if trying to protect him, and died in the explosion."

There were tears streaming down Gabriel's cheeks, and Sam tenderly lifted a hand and brushed them away with his thumb. The soldier briefly leaned his face into Sam's large palm, and then shook himself free of his emotions.

"Sorry…" Gabriel muttered as he used the sleeve of his button down to dry his eyelashes. "I haven't actually thought about what happened to them that day since I got back. Kind of all hits you like a ton of bricks."

"Don't apologize," Sam whispered, draping one of his strong arms around the other man's shoulders and drawing him into a small hug. He swallowed hard when Gabriel's head came to fit almost perfectly into the crook between Sam's neck and shoulder. "It's supposed to hurt when you lose someone."

"We lost too many, kiddo…" Gabriel said through gritted teeth.

"They died heroes. Guess that's all we could really ask for, huh?" Sam cleared his throat. "Hey… um, what say we put all this stuff away, and go downstairs for some of that pecan pie? I can smell it from here."

When Gabriel lifted his head to look at Sam, the smile he offered him could have lit up the entire night sky if it wanted. It actually took the boy's breath away.

"Yeah… let's do that."

They worked quickly, but thoroughly, hanging up each of Dean's uniforms in his closet next to his sweaters, button downs, jackets, and slacks. They laced his boots together and set them at the foot of his nightstand, where his helmet was placed right overtop his lamp. His photographs, letters, and the few crinkled maps he owned were pinned to the wall above his bed.

Eventually, Sam knew, Bobby and he would have to clear out all of Dean's things from this room. Not now. Not for years, maybe. But, eventually. Bobby had no use for this extra room, and it would be nice to walk in every so often and take in the sheer _feeling_ of Dean, especially on days where he would be missed the most; Christmas, his birthday, the Fourth of July.

After Gabriel slid the empty trunk to the end of the bed, both men walked out into the hall, flicked off the bedroom light, and headed downstairs for pie.

The bedroom door was left open.

Like it should be.

* * *

><p>"Bad news, fellas," Bobby grumbled as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Storm's gotten worse. Radio says all buses are cancelled until further notice."<p>

Gabriel lifted his eyes from the two half-eaten slices of pecan pie, which he and Sam had been sharing together while standing by the window to overlook the beauty of the snowstorm outside. They had conversed softly, exchanged laughter and the occasional, almost shy glance. There was something about the kid that made Gabriel's heart thunder like the galloping hooves of wild horses.

He turned, meeting the apologetic frown of the older man. "Oh…"Gabriel screwed up his mouth to one side, his fork clattering softly against the ceramic plate as he set it down. "Guess I'll stay at a motel. No big deal."

"Motel?" Sam gave him a look. "The nearest one is more than ten blocks from here. You'll never be able—"

"Sam," Gabriel cut him off in a soft, reassuring tone. "I can handle it."

"No, the boy's right," Bobby added from the doorway. "It's a hell of a walk, and I ain't the kind of man to let a friend have to take that journey when I've got a perfectly big and comfortable couch right in the den." He nodded firmly, as though his final word was law in this home. "You'll stay here tonight. No questions asked."

Gabriel wanted to open his mouth to protest, to insist that it wasn't necessary for this little family to do anything more for him. The home cooked dinner and good company was more than he could have ever asked for. But, he decided against it. Frankly, he was rather relieved to not have to trudge ten blocks through knee-deep snow in order to get to a cold, lonely motel room. There was no telling when the storm would even end. He looked over at Sam, who was smiling and letting those dimples show.

"Alright, alright, you've convinced me," Gabriel smirked, giving the boy a playful nudge with his shoulder.

"Good. That's all good and settled." Bobby clapped his hands together, and then proceeded to help himself to a slice of warm pie. He looked to his nephew. "Sam do you mind getting the couch all set up for Gabriel? There are some extra quilts and blankets in the closet."

Sam, his mouth stuffed full of the final bite of pie, nodded and set his plate in the sink, before dashing out of the kitchen to get things prepared. Gabriel watched him go, at the sway of his broad shoulders, the way his luscious chocolate hair moved as he ran, the roll of muscles barely hidden beneath his clothes. Then, he had to remind himself that he was, in fact, still in the same room at that boy's uncle, and proceeded to stare at the kitchen floor, instead.

"You've really helped the kid, you know?" He heard Bobby say.

Gabriel turned his eyes to the older man, head tilted. When he said nothing in response, Bobby continued.

"He's been carrying around the weight of his brother's death for months. Almost as though he thinks it's his own damn fault." Bobby shook his head slowly, fingers coming up to scratch absently at his scraggly beard. "He's hardly said much, done much. He's been more of an empty shell than a nineteen year old boy."

"Loss will do that to you, especially at such a young age." Gabriel said softly as he placed his own empty dishes in the sink.

Bobby nodded around his bite of pie. He swallowed before speaking. "Then you came along, and it's like you brought the damn light of God with you. I haven't seen Sam so full of life since before Dean was shipped out. You really made an impact on the boy."

Gabriel smiled sadly. "I'm just a man."

"No... You're a miracle, and I can't thank you near enough for all you've done for what's left of my family."

Gabriel wanted to rush forward. He wanted to grab the burly bear of a man and draw him into an embrace so tight, it would knock the breath right out of the both of them. He was undeserving of such kindness, of such praise, when he hardly did anything but return the jacket of a fallen soldier. But, as Sam poked his head into the kitchen and called for Gabriel, he and Bobby instead locked eyes and exchanged a look that spoke more than any amount of words could ever say.

The soldier followed Sam into the den, where the couch was already set up. Two plush pillows in striped cases were settled off to one side, and a warm quilt was unfolded and draped across the arm, just waiting to be drawn over a tired body. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the embers in the quiet hearth, and the pale wash of moonlight pouring in through the window, where the shadow of each falling snowflake danced across the rug.

"Hope everything's okay for you," Sam said, rubbing his palms on the front of his trousers. "If you need anything else, you can ask."

Gabriel shook his head. "It's perfect, kiddo. Really."

And then Sam was frowning, all the while running those hazel eyes up and down Gabriel's body and looking highly displeased.

"Uh… something wrong, Sam?"

The boy was out of the room in a flash, leaving nothing behind but the echo of a quick, "be right back!" in his midst. Gabriel blinked once, twice, in confusion, and planted himself on the soft couch as he waited the return of the young boy. Sam definitely seemed like the kind of boy who could not sit still unless he was reading, whose mind was a whirl of fresh ideas and thoughts and questions that he needed to assess and act on as quickly as possible.

He would do wonderfully at Stanford.

The thunder of heavy footsteps alerted Gabriel of Sam's return, and he watched as the boy swept into the den holding a mound of red and white striped fabric.

"What is that?" Gabriel asked with one brow cocked.

Sam unfolded the fabric, which turned out to be a soft-looking and _very_ big nightshirt, and held it out. "Thought you'd be more comfortable in this than the shirt you're wearing now. It's mine, so it might be a bit big, which is why I decided not to bring the pants, too. Don't want you tripping or anything."

"Smart idea. I have enough trouble walking as it is," Gabriel winked playfully and took the nightshirt, which smelled so heavily of the boy. He stood, then, and made quick work of undoing each button of his own shirt. "Thanks for this. You know, this'll be a nice change from my usual nightly attire. Or… lack thereof."

Sam stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. "What…?"

"I sleep naked, Sam."

The blush that immediately hit the boy's cheeks was nothing short of adorable, and Gabriel burst out laughing. Turning away from Sam, to allow him a minute to compose himself, the soldier picked up his given nightshirt with the intention of just throwing it on. But, the warm brush of fingers down his spine froze him in place, and Gabriel let out a soft gasp.

Sam was standing directly behind him; that much Gabriel could see out of his peripheral vision. He was tracing a distinct jagged line up and down the soldier's spine, and then he finally whispered, "You're covered in scars."

"Didn't think I'd come back from war looking pretty as a peach, did ya?" Gabriel asked, turning enough to meet the boy's eyes.

Sam's eyes were still on his body, no doubt catching sight of the other scars on Gabriel's ribs, chest, and stomach. There weren't many; a couple bullet wounds, a few close calls with a knife and bayonet, some slices from flying shrapnel due to a bomb that went off too close. The typical markings of a soldier. The real bad one was on his knee, and Gabriel was thankful that his pants were concealing it. The thing was ugly and vicious looking.

"I can tell you about them." Gabriel said softly. "Not tonight, but… another time, I'll sit you down and tell you how I got each and every one of them."

Hazel eyes finally rose to meet his. "I'd really like that."

Gabriel managed to break the gaze long enough to slip the nightshirt on, and the thing practically hung off him like a dress. He looked down at himself, at how ridiculous he looked, and then at Sam. "My tent was smaller than this. Christ, you could fit an entire platoon in here!"

Sam snickered. "Not my fault you're short."

"Hey, I prefer pocket-sized for your convenience." Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, and then flopped himself down onto the couch, glad to finally take the weight off his knee. It was beginning to throb like a bitch. He rubbed at it with a hiss.

"Leg sore?" Sam asked softly.

"Mhm… Happens every night. I'll be fine." Gabriel sighed. "I'll sleep through it."

Hopefully.

Sam nodded, and proceeded to do that thing where he wrung his big hands together nervously, as though fighting with the right words to say. "Um… I guess I'll say goodnight, then. If you need anything at all, my room is right upstairs, so just call."

"Will do, bucko, but don't hold your breath. I'm sure I'll manage just fine down here." The soldier nodded once. "You go get some shuteye. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah…" Sam smiled, even as be began to back out of the room. "Goodnight, Gabriel."

"Goodnight, Sam."

Once the boy was out of sight, Gabriel rid himself of his trousers so that he was clad in nothing but his boxers and Sam's gargantuan candy cane-striped nightshirt. The scar on his knee looked particularly swollen tonight, and as he lay himself down, he covered the thing in the warm quilt and proceeded to gently massage it through the fabric.

Above, he could hear Sam as he moved about his own bedroom, getting himself ready for bed; big clunky footsteps, the squeak of a mattress, and then silence. Peace settled quickly over the house, leaving nothing but the eerie howl of the winter wind and the occasional crackle from the hearth as the burning embers began to die away.

When exhaustion began to drag Gabriel down into a deep slumber, he prayed that peace would follow him there, too.

Then again, it never did.


	4. Part 4

Not two hours after surrendering to the sweetness of a peaceful slumber, Sam was startled awake by a strange and unnerving sound. At first, he thought it merely a dream as he blinked the sleep from his heavy eyes and lifted his head from the comfort of his pillow. The spears of moonlight that managed to come in through the blinds bled across his quilt-covered legs and over the bedroom carpet. He sat up, and then went still, listening for that sound again.

It had been the oddest thing; a mixture of shouted words that he couldn't decipher, a whimper, a cry. Things one didn't normally hear in the middle of the night. Pushing long fingers back through his sleep-mussed bangs, Sam yawned and cocked his head, listening to the creaking of the settling house, the howl of wind outside as the blizzard raged on. He could distinctly hear Bobby's deep snoring through his bedroom wall, so that ultimately ruled out his uncle listening to the radio in the den like he sometimes did.

Perhaps it was just in his head. Dreams did have ways of making it seem…

No.

There it was again; the low, muffled sound of someone shouting. Sam frowned, tossing the quilt off his body and rising to his full height so he could look out the window. Parting the blinds, he peered outside, squinting at the blinding white of the moonlit snow covering the yards and street. The bare, skeletal forms of trees swayed in the icy wind, and plumes of snow billowed up off the ground in sparkling white bursts. The world was completely barren of life. No one was insane enough to venture out in the middle of a storm, especially at this ungodly hour. Wherever the sound was coming from, it was definitely not out there.

He stepped back, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

"Something's not right here…" Sam muttered to himself.

He decided to head downstairs, the floorboards creaking under each of his steps. The house was dark, quiet, and Sam tried to move as silently as possible so as not to disturb the soldier slumbering in the den. It was surprising that the shouts had not woken him. One would think a Lieutenant General would be on his feet and alert at the first sound of alarm in the middle of the night.

On his way to the kitchen, Sam took a moment to peer into the den, just to catch a glimpse of Gabriel as he slept, but the sight he was instead greeted with stopped the boy dead in his tracks.

Gabriel was thrashing violently upon the couch; arms and legs kicking and clawing at the air as his body tossed and turned. The pillow Sam had given him looked like it had been thrown clear across the room, as it was sitting in a rumpled heap against the opposite wall, and the quilt had tangled itself around one of the soldier's legs. And tears… there were tracks of tears running down both of Gabriel's cheeks. Sam watched, eyes widened in horror, as Gabriel whimpered softly into the couch cushion like a frightened child, and then began to shout to the surrounding silence. Sam was sure he felt his heart break right then and there.

Orders. Gabriel was shouting orders to troops long dead.

That's what had woken Sam up.

The boy was at a loss for what to do at this point. He couldn't just outright leave Gabriel in this state and return upstairs to bed. That would be heartless. Could he wake him? Was it safe to wake a person from a nightmare this severe?

With soft but quick footsteps, Sam approached the couch, watching helplessly as the brave man that had risked his life for his country clung to the nightshirt Sam gave him like it was the only lifeline saving him from the torture of his own mind. Carefully, he knelt by the couch, and took Gabriel's hand in his, while the other settled itself over the soldier's sweat-slicked brow and began to pet softly. As soon as the contact was made, Gabriel's amber eyes snapped open, and he sat up with a jolt and a shout, nearly scaring the daylights right out of Sam.

Moments passed where not a sound was made between them, save for Gabriel as he attempted to catch his breath. Sam waited, patient and worried, while the soldier's eyes passed over every corner of the dark room, as though needing a reminder of where he was. Gabriel looked out the window at the falling snow, sighed heavily, and then used the sleeves of the nightshirt to wipe the tearstains from his cheeks. He kept his hands over his eyes.

"…Gabriel?" Sam whispered, but received no response. Tenderly, he reached out, placing his hands over those of the soldier and pulling them off his face. There were more teardrops beading on Gabriel's lashes, and they fell down his face when he tried to blink them away,

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Gabriel's voice sounded hoarse from his shouting.

"Shh…" Sam shook his head, thumbing away the tears as they fell. "It's okay. I don't mind. Are… are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Gabriel said in a way that sounded like he was tired of repeating it, not only to others, but to himself.

"Don't lie to me." Sam frowned. "That didn't look fine. _You_ don't look fine. And believe me, I know what 'not fine' looks like. I'm not fine."

The slightest hint of a smirk tugged on the very corners of the soldier's lips, but he didn't say anything more. So, Sam rose to his feet, and settled himself on the couch right next to him. His weight sunk deeper into the cushions, which allowed Gabriel to lean against him, shoulder to shoulder.

"What was that?" Sam couldn't help but ask. "Nightmare?"

Gabriel shifted in his seat, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He didn't seem eager to discuss what had just happened. "Could you… um, do me a favour and grab my flask? It's in the pocket of my jacket in the hallway."

"Sure." Sam nodded once, and stood to fetch what Gabriel had asked for. He found it tucked away in the pocket of that brown leather pilot's jacket he adored so much. It was silver, beautifully crafted, and it felt heavy with what was undoubtedly some kind of alcohol. When he returned, he handed it to Gabriel with a frown. "Do you always drink after a nightmare?"

"Mhm," The soldier nodded, uncapped the flask, and took a long, needy swig. "Helps with the shakes and the anxiety that follows. Hell of a numbing agent." He held the booze out. "Want some?"

Sam took the offered flask as he sat back down, and cautiously sniffed at its contents. He wrinkled his nose at the strong, almost burning scent. "What is it?"

"Whiskey." Gabriel said as he fussed with untangling the quilt and draping it over his legs.

"Never had it before." Sam frowned down at the flask, and then knocked back a gulp that was a little too large for a whiskey virgin.

"Whoa, there, kiddo."

Sam could barely concentrate on anything Gabriel was saying. Tears sprung into his eyes and he coughed, nearly choking on the alcohol as it made its way into his belly. His throat burned, and his stomach suddenly felt very warm.

"Wow—" Sam coughed and pounded his chest. "S-strong."

Gabriel rubbed at Sam's back, chuckling all the while. "Ya think?" He took back the flask, and held it in his lap with both hands so that he could nurse it as long as he needed to. He wet his lips with his tongue before speaking again. "And they're not… nightmares, so to speak."

Sam frowned. "They're not?"

"Doc calls 'em night terrors." Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. "They're… kind of a side effect of returning from the battlefield. Post-traumatic stress disorder, he called it."

"What… do you dream about?" Sam asked softly.

Gabriel just shrugged. "Hard to say, really. I usually can't remember most of them as soon as I wake up. But, when I do, it's just about the war. No specific battles, just… running. Darkness. Guns blasting and bombs exploding so close, I can feel the heat on my cheeks. I hear shouts from surrounding men, but I can't see any of their faces. They're just shadows, mostly."

Sam swallowed back the lump building quickly in his throat, but it wouldn't vanish. Almost like he swallowed a rock and it somehow managed to lodge itself in his oesophagus. He slid a hand tentatively across the quilt, and brushed his fingers over Gabriel's arm once he reached it. The soldier seemed to ease under his touch, and he released his hold on his flask so that their hands could join tightly, just as he'd done for Sam when they went into Dean's room.

It was such an easy thing for the two of them to share. One would think hand holding would be too intimate for two people who only knew each other two days, but… Sam couldn't really out his finger on it. It felt right, clasping his much larger hand over Gabriel's, allowing their fingers to entwine and clutch.

It was like the only thing keeping them grounded.

"Is… there any way to stop them?" Sam held his breath.

"Not really. They said they can go away on their own, but it could take a long time." Gabriel took another swig of his whiskey. "The best cure is just getting more sleep, but I'm always too terrified to close my eyes again after waking from one of those things." He sighed. "I haven't gotten a full night's rest since a couple weeks after I got back. That's when they started."

"But, it's been months…"

"Exactly, kiddo. I'm pretty much runnin' on fumes here. Two, maybe three hours of sleep a night isn't really doing me much good."

Sam could tell. The bags and dark circles around each of Gabriel's eyes were too deep for anyone his age. He brushed his thumb across the bumpy plane of the soldier's knuckles. "Maybe you could try again tonight? I can stay here with you until you fall asleep."

"Sam, that's really not necessary." Gabriel said with a shake of his head.

"It kind of is." Sam insisted. "You took time to help me tonight, and I can't just sit here and let you suffer, too." He reluctantly released Gabriel's hand and stood, fetching the thrown pillow on the other side of them room. He returned, tossed it onto Gabriel's lap, and plopped back down. "Alright. Lie down."

"Sam—"

The boy shot him a look that cut off his protests right there. Gabriel may have been a Lieutenant General, but Sam had had an older brother that got into more stupid shenanigans than he could keep up with. Being the mature one of the family, Sam had given Dean the same look more than once.

"Tell ya what…" Gabriel closed up his flask and fluffed up the pillow still on his lap. "You lay down here, and we'll try and fall asleep together. I feel bad enough for waking you up at this hour, anyways."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Can you sleep sitting up?"

"I've done it more than once. You can't really recline in a trench."

Sam hesitated a moment. "Well… alright…" He turned and lay himself down, head settling into the plush pillow softness on Gabriel's lap, while his too-long legs hung over the couch's arm. He felt one of the soldier's hands immediately come to weave itself into his hair, and he let out a soft, content noise.

"Comfy?" Gabriel asked.

Sam actually purred. "Mhm."

Soft-tipped fingers began to deeply massage small circles into Sam's scalp, curling through thick, wavy brown locks. "This'll sound silly, but your hair is soft, kiddo. Real soft. Been wantin' to touch it since I first laid eyes on it."

A wave of heat rose into Sam's cheeks. "…You have?"

"You betcha." Gabriel grinned down at him, running one finger down the soft short hairs of Sam's sideburn, and then tapped at his rosy cheek. "Well, lookie here. I made you blush."

The boy instantly covered his face with his hands, desperately wishing for a dark little hole to crawl into at that very moment. "No you didn't."

"Oh, I think I did, kiddo."

Sam turned over, burying himself into the quilt that was bunched up around Gabriel's stomach, and he could feel the vibrations reverberating inside Gabriel's chest as he attempted to surprises his laughter.

"You're laughing at me," He grumbled into the blanket.

"No, I'm not." Gabriel didn't bother to hide his giggle, which earned him a swift thwack across the head with the pillow. It only made the soldier laugh harder and, before Sam knew it, he was cracking up right along with him. "Shh! Shh!" Gabriel had tears in his amber eyes. "We're gonna wake your uncle, kid."

Sam had to cover his mouth to muffle the cackles. His sides and stomach ached. He wasn't even sure what was so funny anymore; perhaps they were both overtired and slowly going growing mad, but it felt good. He hadn't laughed like this in a good long while.

By the time their chuckles had died away, and the high of laughter had finally faded, Sam felt struck with a wave of exhaustion, and he sighed, shutting his eyes against the feel of Gabriel's fingers still moving through his hair. He wished he could just turn over and drift away, but he couldn't just leave the soldier alone to struggle with his own insomnia. Just as he opened his eyes again, Gabriel brushed his thumb across his eyelid in a soothing, lulling motion.

"It's okay, Sam," he whispered. "Go to sleep."

The boy shook his head, despite the ache to just pass out right there on the other man's lap. "No, I'm all right… I can stay awake with you."

"You kinda can't, kiddo." Gabriel chuckled softly. "It's late, and you're exhausted."

Sam murmured something and turned his head, liking how the soldier's stomach was right there for him to lean against. It was warm, too. "Will you try and go to sleep, too?"

"I'll try."

"Promise?"

Gabriel drew the end of the quilt up, and draped it over Sam's body. "I promise, Sam."

Sam nodded, trusting the soldier's words as he snuggled deeper into the blanket and against the warm body beneath him. The gentle rise and fall of Gabriel's stomach as he breathed, the sensation of those fingers brushing over and pressing into all the right spots on his head, it comforted Sam in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt safe, protected, just like when he was a child, and Dean had held him through the raging storms.

He never wanted to quit feeling this way.

* * *

><p>The sun was beginning to rise, and it was beautiful, pouring its pale golden light in through the windows, and Gabriel watched tiredly as the shadows moved across the walls of the den. At his lap, Sam snored softly; a bundle of blankets, shaggy brown hair, and too-long limbs. He would murmur softly in his sleep, and make the tiniest sounds of contentment, especially whenever Gabriel's finger's returned to his hair. The soldier had to smile.<p>

And he had to admit: the kid was downright beautiful when he slept.

Tilting his head so that it rested against the back of the couch, Gabriel stared up at the ceiling, watching at how the sunlight glided across the painted surface. His amber eyes were heavy, aching for rest, but as much as he tried, he could not find the courage to close them again. He couldn't risk the thought of returning to those memories. To the fear, the pain, the devastation.

He wasn't a soldier. He was nothing but a damn coward.

And the worst part of it was that Sam had been the one to witness one of his night terrors. The poor kid had looked so horrified. There had been so much sadness in his eyes, so much pity. Gabriel had never wanted him to feel that, especially after all he'd already gone through with the loss of Dean. He'd had enough on his plate to begin with. Reaching over, the soldier plucked his near-empty flask from the side table and unscrewed it, draining the remaining contents in one large gulp.

As Sam turned over in his sleep, Gabriel took the opportunity given and quickly slipped out from under him, allowing the boy to settle himself into the plush cushions of the couch. Picking up the fallen end of the quilt, Gabriel tucked it back around Sam, and smoothed out his hair in an action that was far more affectionate than it should have been.

He scooped up his discarded trousers, as he would rather not parade around another person's house in his boxer shorts, and slipped them on. He kept Sam's candy cane striped nightshirt on, though, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging open like the damn oversized dress it was.

Plus, it smelled too nice to give up so quickly.

Flask still in hand, Gabriel limped out of the den and down the hall into the kitchen. He wasn't surprised on how well he could function on two hours of sleep. After months of it, it seemed his body was more used to it than anything else. The linoleum floor was cold against his bare feet, and Gabriel worked on firing up some coffee and getting a nice breakfast made for when Sam and Bobby finally awoke. It was the least he could do for them.

Hunting through the fridge and freezer, Gabriel was glad to find an unopened package of bacon, some eggs, and a fresh loaf of bread. He pulled a pan and the toaster from the cabinets, and started on the breakfast. The sizzle of bacon soon filled the silence of the house, and the scent of it as it fried made his stomach rumble.

The clock ticked away on the wall, and little by little, the sunlight became brighter, filling the kitchen in bright light. Outside, the snowfall had finally settled, and the blanket that lay over the earth was so thick, it would take hours to shovel a path through it. Gabriel mildly wondered how long it would take for the busses to finally be up and running again.

Not that he was in any rush to go home.

Plating the finished bacon and setting it to the side, Gabriel cracked the eggs into the same pan so they could fry in the fat and soak up the flavour. He didn't even notice the figure that appeared in the doorway until a groggy voice called his name.

"…Gabe?"

The soldier turned, then, spatula still in hand as he met Sam's sleepy hazel eyes. He smiled softly. "Mornin', sleepyhead. You hungry?"

Sam yawned and padded across the kitchen floor, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles much like a child would. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Making bacon and eggs, kiddo. What's it look like?" Gabriel grinned and turned just in time to scoop two of the finished sunny side-up beauties onto their own plates. "You want one egg or two?"

"Gabe."

"Hm?"

Sam's hand suddenly came to fall on his shoulder, and turned him so that they were facing each other. Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced with the boy cupped either side of his face in those great big palms of his, and ran his thumbs under the dark circles under each of his eyes. They were close enough to bathe each other's faces in warm breath, and Gabriel's head was tilted up so far that his neck strained a little. It came with the height difference. Sam's brow knotted together, and Gabriel could only swallow hard.

"You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?" Sam asked softly.

The soldier pressed his lips together. "What makes you think that, kiddo?"

"You look like hell."

Gabriel had to chuckle. "You say the sweetest things. I just haven't powdered my nose, yet."

Sam didn't look too keen on joking around at the moment, his frown only deepening in response.

Gabriel sighed heavily and sagged his shoulders. "I tried, kiddo. I really did try. My brain just wouldn't allow it. Happens every night."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Sam slid his hands down Gabriel's face and settled them on the sides of his neck, instead. His thumbs pressed into each pulse point, and Gabriel wondered if the kid could feel his heartbeat quickening. "I could have kept you company, Gabe."

"You honestly think I would have done that to you?"

"You should have. I feel bad, now."

The soldier shook his head and had to pull away, turning just in time to turn down the stove before the pan of oil became burnt and useless. He cracked two more eggs into it and salted them as they began to cook. "There's no need to feel bad about anything. It's out of our control."

Sam sounded downright miserable. "I don't want you to get sick..."

Looking over his shoulder, Gabriel offered the boy a warm, reassuring smile. "Hey, now, don't go thinking things like that, bucko. I'm just fine. It'll pass eventually. I've dealt with far worse than sleepiness, believe me."

Sam looked none-too-convinced, but he nodded anyway, pouring himself a cup of black coffee and moving to take a seat in the breakfast nook. Gabriel followed soon after with a plate piled over with eggs, strips of crisp bacon, and two slices of buttered toast. He set it in front of the kid.

"Gabe, you realty didn't have to..."

"Zip it and eat, kiddo. Was my pleasure." Gabriel smiled, wiping his hands clean on the front of his trousers. When Sam picked up a bacon strip and took a bite, the soldier spoke so softly, he wasn't even sure if Sam would be able to hear him. "I'm flattered, by the way."

Sam's eyes lifted. Apparently, he heard him. "Huh?"

"You keep calling me Gabe." Gabriel smiled, and it was shy. He shuffled his feet, feeling stupidly ridiculous. "Shortening someone's name is a sign of affection, so… I'm flattered."

"Oh. Uh… I can stop if you—"

"No. Please, don't." The soldier was beyond serious. So much, it actually shocked him. "I like it."

Sam, himself, looked just about as flustered as Gabriel felt. "…Okay."

Without really thinking too much about what he did next, Gabriel stepped around the breakfast table and leaned in, pressing a firm but tender kiss to the pleasant-smelling soft hair atop the boy's head. The move was fuelled by pure impulse, and the need to bring some form of comfort to the boy. Sam tensed immediately, as though all breath had been stolen from him.

"Stop worrying about me, all right?" Gabriel whispered into Sam's hair.

When he finally looked at Sam, the kid was blushing ten shades of red. They locked eyes, but just as the kid opened his mouth to speak, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted them and they both turned to see Bobby lumber into the kitchen.

"Who's making breakfast in here?" The older man asked with a yawn.

Gabriel smiled cheerfully and, casting one last look in Sam's direction, limped back into the kitchen toward the stove. "Take a seat, Bobby, I've got coffee and bacon all ready for you."

"You're a damn gift from the Heaven's, Gabriel."

The soldier winked, and couldn't help but notice out of the tail of his eye that Sam was still staring at him, the forgotten strip of bacon still grasped between his fingers.


	5. Part 5

Bobby Singer wasn't the kind of man that would call himself the poster-child for Uncle of the Year. He was a gruff, grumpy, stubborn son of a bitch with a drinking problem and a love for fixing run down automobiles. He knew the difference between a crank shaft and a connecting rod, he was an avid reader of history books with a fondness for Western films, and he knew how to make the best damn baked bean casserole money could buy.

But, of all things in the world that Bobby Singer was certain of, none of them were as clear to him as when two people shared a bond.

He'd shared one himself with his beloved late wife Ellen, who had been the only woman in the world strong enough to be able to put up with him and his various characteristics. Any female who would pass up the pretty red lipstick and high heels to share a beer with him after getting her hands and face greased up from helping tune a car was his idea of perfection. Sparky like a firecracker and as beautiful as they come, Ellen had always known when to scold and when to comfort. She'd been there to give Dean a swift thwack across the back of the head when he back-talked her, only to save him the largest slice of apple pie after dinner. Bless her soul, she had been a wonderful woman.

Not a day went by where Bobby didn't miss her.

He'd seen a bond with Dean and Sam ever since they were barely old enough to toddle around the house whenever John would drop them off before heading to work, tugging at each other's hair and sharing a ratty old blue blanket. He recalled the days when Sam would cry while he was teething, and Dean would sit by him, wearing a baseball cap too big for his head while shaking a little rattle to distract his baby brother from the pain. He remembered the times when Sam would stay up with Dean into the wee hours of the morning to help him study for his algebra test. Dean was never good with the whole academic thing, but he was never too prideful to ask for some assistance from his brother. And Sam was never too bitter to take the time to help.

The two of them were closer than any pair of siblings he'd ever known.

And he saw it now, right outside the den window.

With last night's blizzard finally settled, Sam and Gabriel had ventured out into the cold with two shovels to attempt to clear a pathway from the door to the sidewalk through the thick blanket of heavy white. Both of them were bundled up to their necks in warm wool, leather, and fur, and Bobby could hear their grunts through the window as they hoisted the massive shovelfuls of snow and tossed them out of the way.

Bobby had insisted to Gabriel that it wasn't necessary for him to help Sam out. His nephew was fit and strong as hell. Plus, the cold weather and lifting all that weight would be hard on his bad knee, and Bobby wasn't about to put the soldier through agony when there was a chance he'd have to walk all the way to the bus stop to go home. Needless to say that, despite his efforts, he wasn't surprised when Gabriel ignored his protests with a mischievous little smirk and headed outside anyway.

His stubbornness was a lot like Dean's had been.

Probably why it felt so natural having him around the house.

Pressing blunt fingers into the ceramic of his mug warmed by the steaming black coffee, Bobby smiled slightly at the two young men working away under the bright afternoon sun. They were talking to each other, but Bobby could barely make out their exchanged words, which were muffled by the thick wool scarves wrapped around their faces. Sam was laughing, though—a full-out, head-tossed-back kind of laugh—and goddamn it if it wasn't a sound long overdue in this house. The kid hadn't laughed or even cracked a smile since Dean's passing.

Gabriel paused his shovelling to take a short breather and to give his leg a rest. He rubbed at his knee through his trousers, and Bobby could see his brows furrow together in pain and discomfort. As he used his glove to wipe the sweat from his brow, Bobby caught those golden eyes of his locking themselves onto the back of Sam's head. He would have thought nothing of it, except when Sam turned to say something, the soldier had looked away immediately, as though afraid to be caught staring.

Well… ain't that something.

Turning, Bobby strolled out of the bright, sunlit den and out into the narrow hallway. Just before reaching the front door, he paused, and turned his eyes to the portrait of his nephew hanging on the wall. Dean stared back at him through the photograph, his smile so bright, it crinkled the very corners of his bright green eyes just the way Sam's did. The photo wasn't the best quality, but Bobby was sure he could count every damn freckle on that boy's face. A real handsome lad he was; just like his father.

With a steady hand, Bobby gingerly plucked the picture frame off the wall and pulled it close. After setting his mug of coffee down on the table, he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the dust from the glass and the frame. His fingers settled over Dean's cheek, and he let out a shaky sigh.

"Miss ya, boy," he whispered softly.

He could almost hear it: Dean's rough voice echoing through the rooms of this house; laughing, singing off-key to one of the tunes on the radio, calling for Sam, or asking who the hell had finished the piece of pie he'd saved for himself. Damn it, Bobby missed telling the boy to pipe the hell down. He would've given anything to do it one more time. The house had been far too quiet since his passing.

Or, at least, it used to be.

Sam's laughter, though outside and muffled by the walls of the house, still managed to fill the hallway with a light brighter than the sun ever could. Bobby smiled and shook his head, eyes falling on the portrait in his hands.

"Your brother's doing better, Dean," he said. "Was worried about him for a while there, but I think he'll be all right. Sam's tough, like you and your dad were." He glanced toward the front door. "That army friend of yours is a real blessing in our lives. I ain't too proud to say that. Gabriel's a good man, and he's good to our Sam." Bobby couldn't help but chuckle, though he practically choked it out. "He reminds me a lot of you: stubborn and sharp and funny as hell. It's no wonder you two got along. I'm glad you had each other during that dark time overseas."

Bobby really wasn't sure where he was going with this. It wasn't as though he expected the picture to answer him. He wasn't a damn loon. With a clear of his throat and a wipe of his eyes with the backs of his fingers, he decided to wrap it up.

"I hope you're happy, boy. Wherever the hell you are, I hope you're happy and safe with your mom and dad and Aunt Ellen. I love ya and miss you every damn day."

After one last affectionate brush of fingers across the glass surface, Bobby hung the photograph back in its rightful place on the wall. He scooped up his cooling cup of coffee from the table, and then headed to the door, socked feet shuffling across the old rug. The blast of icy wind and sunlight greeted him like a smack in the face as soon as he opened the front door. Using his free hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glare against the snow, Bobby peered out at the boys.

They didn't seem to notice he was there. Gabriel was busy toiling away with his shovel, but Sam had stopped, and was currently in the process of building a small snowball. Well, the thing _looked_ small in comparison to those massive palms of his, but as it was thrown across the yard to collide with the back of Gabriel's head, the impact was greater than expected.

Gabriel paused mid-scoop, and turned slowly to face the young boy with a playful glare, the remnants of the snowball still clinging to his caramel blonde hair. Sam was turned away while snickering into his gloved hand, and as the soldier leaned down to gather up a palm full of snow of his own, Bobby thought twice about interrupting them. Shoulder leaned against the doorframe, he watched and smiled into his mug as Gabriel whipped a snowball and nailed Sam right smack in the ass. The boy yelped and nearly fell over, which pretty much had them both laughing hysterically.

"Cheap shot, Gabe!" Sam cracked up, and made a move to gather up another mound of snow, when he was struck with a second ball on his arm. "Hey! I wasn't ready!"

"All's fair in war and combat, bucko." Gabriel cackled, ducking just as a snowball whizzed passed his head.

Bobby was grinning. Damn it, he couldn't help it. It felt so good seeing Sam acting like Sam again. To see him play and joke and laugh, just the way he had done when his big brother had been around. Being cooped up in the musky old house for months with nothing but books as company was unhealthy for a kid his age.

Turning his pale green eyes to the late afternoon sky, at the darkened clouds rolling in overhead, threatening them with yet another snowfall, Bobby shook his head and called out to Sam and Gabriel, "Boys, come inside. The path's as good as it's gonna get right now. More snow's comin'."

Bobby stepped aside and watched as the two young men hurriedly leaned their shovels against the side of the garage, and then shuffled back inside the warmth of the house. They were both soaking wet and dripping small mounds of snow onto the rug by the door.

"You both look like wet dogs," he pointed out bluntly.

"Thanks," Sam chuckled, unwrapping his scarf from his neck. He hung it up to dry along with his gloves and coat. "Bet we smell like one, too." Sam wrinkled his nose at the sweat that had dampened his clothes. "I think this calls for a shower."

"Just one?" Gabriel smirked and quirked an eyebrow. "We sharing?"

There had to have been at least a hundred different shades of red that suddenly bloomed on the kid's face, and Bobby couldn't help but bark out a laugh as Sam stumbled over his words. "I-I… Um, n-no, I meant… uh…"

"Easy, Sam. Don't bust an artery. He was kiddin'." Bobby narrowed his eyes sceptically at the young soldier. "Weren't'cha, Gabriel?"

Gabriel just smiled as innocently as he could and batted those blonde eyelashes of his.

"Y-yeah, yeah, uh…" Sam cleared his throat and jerked his thumb toward the stairs. "I'll shower first and then you, Gabe. Okay? Okay. Um… right. I'll go now."

They both watched as the boy pretty much stumbled up the stairs with as much speed as he could gain in those lanky legs of his. Bobby turned to the soldier, eyeing him with a slight smirk as he peeled off his Pilot's jacket and hung it alongside Sam's.

"Would you like some coffee while you wait?" Bobby asked as he made his way down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen, intent on refilling his own mug. "It'll help drive the chill from your bones."

"That sounds great. Thanks," Gabriel nodded and limped after him.

As soon as Bobby made quick work of getting the streaming coffee's ready, he handed one to the shivering soldier, and saw no point in sugar coating his next words. "I see the way you look at Sam."

Gabriel was so caught off guard, he nearly dropped his mug. "…W-what?"

Bobby leaned against the counter and blew cool air over the surface of his coffee. "Calm down, I ain't mad or anything." He took a sip. "It's just nice to see someone getting close to Sam. The kid's practically been a hermit."

The soldier looked downright terrified. And who could blame him, really? Man being attracted to another man? That sorta stuff was really frowned upon in society. "Bobby… listen, I—"

"Gabriel," Bobby cut him off sternly. "I'm practically Sam's parent, now. I'm his guardian, and I've raised that boy since he was crawling around in diapers. I know that kid inside and out; all his flaws and fears and achievements, and I want nothing more than to see him happy, especially after all he's lost."

When the soldier didn't respond, Bobby continued.

"You make him happy, Gabriel. Goddamn it, he's smiling again. He's laughing. Call me unconventional, but if he wants to be with another man because he makes him feel better than any woman ever could, well… I really don't have a problem with that. It ain't my life, and I'm not the type of man to interfere with his. I love that boy like my own son." He shrugged. "If you two care about each other, have at it."

Gabriel stared at him for a good long time, and then dropped his eyes to his coffee. He squeezed his fingers around the mug, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. "I've only known Sam for three days."

Bobby snorted. "So what? I fell in love with my wife as soon as I laid eyes on her. Time isn't supposed to matter when you care about someone. And don't go tellin' me you don't care for the boy. I know the look you gave him. He looks at you that way, too."

Gabriel blinked once, twice, in confusion. "He does?"

"Like he doesn't make his attraction obvious already? You fluster that kid to the point where he can't speak proper." Bobby laughed and took a long sip of his coffee.

The soldier pushed his fingers back through his damp hair. "…Bobby, I'm ten years older than the kid. It doesn't seem right."

"Age is just a number." Bobby frowned. "Are you really willing to give someone up just because they may be a bit younger than you? He's an adult, he's smart enough to know what he wants and to make his own decisions." He scratched at his beard. "I lost my Ellen, and that taught me that when you have someone, when you care about 'em, you hold onto them as hard as you can, cause you never know if or when they'll slip away. Life is damn fragile, Gabriel. You know that better than I do."

Gabriel nodded slowly, and finally, the smallest hint of a smile spread across his lips. "You playin' matchmaker, Bobby?"

The gruff older man snorted. "Oh shaddap."

Just then, Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a fresh pair of wide-legged pleated slacks and a red wool sweater vest with an open collared shirt underneath. His hair was fluffy and still slightly damp from the shower, and when Bobby cast a glance in Gabriel's direction, the soldier looked like all breath had been stolen from him.

"Shower's free," Sam smiled at Gabriel. "I left some of my clothes in the bathroom for you until yours dry. I outgrew them all, so I think they'll fit you a bit better than my nightshirt."

"Uh…" Gabriel cleared his throat and carefully set his mug of coffee down on the table. "Thanks, kiddo. Means a lot."

The soldier exchanged one last glance with Bobby, and then made his way out of the kitchen and upstairs. Sam watched him as he went with as much subtlety as a train wreck. By the time he finally managed to tear his eyes off of Gabriel, Bobby was standing right next to him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

When Sam noticed, he paled. "I was just… I mean…"

Bobby just shook his head, patted his nephew's broad shoulder, and left the kitchen, leaving Sam a flustered and embarrassed mess.

* * *

><p>"Y'know, this really isn't much of an improvement from last time."<p>

Sam tore his eyes from the book he was reading and lifted his head at the sound of the soldier's voice, only to practically choke on his laughter at the sight of him in the doorway of the den. The slacks and bright red sweater he had laid out for Gabriel before his shower hung off him loosely, much like the striped nightshirt had. His hands were completely hidden by the long wool sleeves, but he had his fingers hooked around the belt loops of his pants, most likely to try and keep them from falling.

"Well, they are the smallest size I have," Sam snickered, clapping his book shut and rising from the armchair next to the crackling fire. He strode over to the soldier, and couldn't help but breathe in the freshly showered scent of him. "Here, let's see."

Gabriel practically pouted, but stayed silent and watched intently as Sam unbuckled his own belt and slid it free from his slacks. The boy then slightly hiked up the dress-like sweater Gabriel wore, and proceeded to loop the belt through his trousers.

"Dressin' me, kiddo?" Gabriel grinned.

Sam's hands froze just as he was about to buckle up the belt, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like a swinging door to the noggin. "U-uh…" he tore his hands away, heat rising onto his cheeks. "I didn't even realize… I'm sorry."

"Hey," Gabriel's whisper was like velvet, and he suddenly grasped Sam's hands in his, leading them back to the belt. "I didn't say stop, did I?"

Sam was almost sure his heart had stopped right then and there. His throat became dry, and he had to swallow multiple times, but a response just didn't seem to surface. With those piercing amber eyes firmly locked onto his face, he turned his attention back to the belt, and fastened it just enough to ensure that Gabriel wouldn't lose his pants.

Not that that'd be so bad…

"Thanks, Sam," Gabriel smiled genuinely, and pushed the sleeves of the sweater up to his elbows. He ran his fingers back through his soft hair, still slightly damp from the shower, and peered out into the hall. "So, where's your uncle?"

"Out," Sam said. "Just made a quick trip into town to pick up a few things just in case we get snowed in anytime soon."

Gabriel nodded, limping passed Sam to plant himself on the couch in front of the window. The light from the fading afternoon sun brightened the gold of his hair, but made the dark circles under his eyes all the more obvious. The guy looked like absolute hell. "What're you readin'?"

Taking his place back in the plush armchair, Sam scooped up his book and propped his feet up. The heat from the fire was toasty against his side. "One of the books on criminal law I picked up from the library."

"Sounds dreadful."

The boy laughed. "Not to me. I…" He could hardly explain it, a grin spreading across his face and excited flutters rising in his chest. "I just love law; every last aspect of it. Through most of my high school years, you'd either find me around the courthouse or the library. Dean would always make fun of me for it." He pressed his lips together. "That's why my dream is to study at Stanford."

Gabriel's expression softened. "You should, kid."

"You think so?"

"Damn right I do." The soldier leaned back, adjusting one of the cushions so he could recline. "If you're passionate about something, if you love something, you go for it with everything you got. Life is short, and you can't miss any opportunity you have to be happy. You're talented, Sam. Talented and crazy smart. If you don't get your ass to Stanford, I'll smack ya upside the head."

Sam smiled and ran his eyes over Gabriel's handsome, yet exhausted face. "You should take a nap."

"Nah, I'm all right."

"Gabriel," The boy's smile melted into one of his stern frowns. "You didn't sleep all last night. You look like hell. Just take a nap for an hour or two. If you're planning on going home tonight, I want you to at least be somewhat rested enough to travel."

It didn't take very much for Gabriel to give in and curl up on the couch, and Sam supposed his signature frown worked just as easily on the soldier as it had on Dean. Gabriel pulled a pillow close, fluffed it, and snuggled his head into it with a yawn that could not be suppressed. He looked so tiny there upon the couch; almost vulnerable. It was a strange thought, given what the soldier had done in his life. The man was anything but weak.

"It's really not fair when you make that face, you know." Gabriel grumbled.

"I know," Sam smirked and reopened his book. "Get some sleep, okay? I'll be right here in case anything happens."

Gabriel nodded. "Mm… Thanks, kiddo…"

It took not five minutes before Sam heard the soft snores coming from the other side of the room, and he smiled softly to himself as his eyes ran along the words on the page. In some odd way, he prided himself in being able to do these kinds of things for Gabriel. The man had spent so many years of his life serving his country; protecting the weak and defending the helpless, he deserved to have someone take care of him for a change.

Given how much Gabriel had done over the past twenty four hours alone, it was the least he could do.

The grandfather clock on the wall ticked on, and it wasn't until after a good hour and a half that the signs of a night terror began to surface. When Sam lifted his eyes, Gabriel was beginning to stir restlessly, his fingers gripping so tightly to the pillow that the fabric looked close to tearing. His brows were drawn tightly together, and his breathing was quickening to the point of sounding like he'd just returned from a long run. Gabriel was saying things, quiet and indistinct, and Sam wondered if the nightmare would worsen to the extent of the one on the previous night, where he would shout and thrash and cry out.

Setting his book aside, Sam rose and went to kneel by the couch where the other man slumbered without peace. In the soft glowing light coming from the hearth, the glistening tracks of tears could be seen building on Gabriel's cheeks, and the boy's heart practically shattered right then. Sam lifted a hand to try and shake the soldier awake, but hesitated.

If Gabriel awoke, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. That much was certain.

Without thinking much on it, Sam carefully climbed onto the couch, himself, his weight sinking into the cushions and shifting Gabriel's body forward. He chewed his lip as he attempted to manoeuvre his lanky form without waking the soldier, and then breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to settle his body right behind Gabriel. It was a tight fit, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. Once relaxed, he wrapped one arm around the other man's small, warm body, and drew him back against his chest. Gabriel whimpered and tensed.

"Shh…" Sam whispered against the shell of his ear. "Easy, easy, I got you."

By some miracle, Gabriel didn't wake from his nightmare like Sam had expected him to. Instead, he settled little by little in Sam's arms, his breathing slowing and his body beginning to still.

"That's it," Sam smiled softly, nuzzling his nose into the soldier's soft, beautiful, sweet-smelling hair. "You're safe, Gabriel. I'm here, and you're safe with me."

"Mm…" Gabriel released a soft, almost relieved sigh in his sleep, and settled his small, calloused hand right over Sam's, and the boy turned his over so that they could entwine their fingers.

That's all he really needed, wasn't it? After months of struggling with these terrifying night terrors, with alcohol as his only comfort, all Gabriel really needed was to feel safe and protected, like the images flashing through his mind couldn't hurt him as long as there was someone there who would hold him through it.

There was another war raging on every night in Gabriel's mind, and Sam would be his soldier's shield through the battle.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam whispered over and over again into Gabriel's hair until he, too, felt pulled away into deep slumber. "I'm not leaving you."


	6. Part 6

The cold grey rays of morning sunlight that just managed to make it over the horizon pierced through the veil of skeletal trees right outside, rousing Gabriel from a sleep that was far too deep and far too peaceful. Eyelids heavy, he groaned and stirred upon the couch, face pressing into the warmth of the pillow that had managed to stay perfectly in place below his head. He was so used to finding them on the floor or tossed clear across the room.

In fact, Gabriel was used to many things when waking; heavy pants, icy cold sweat, tremors that rattled his bones, and a heartbeat so erratic, it stole the breath right from his lungs. He was used to the roar of gunfire still ringing in his ears, the heat of a bomb blast burning the insides of his eyelids. He was used to his first instinct being to curl his fingers around the familiar coolness of his flask and draw the burning whiskey from it until his stomach knotted up and whatever flickered remnants of his nightmares that remained were lost in a pleasant booze-induced fog.

He felt none of that now.

Why couldn't he remember the night terror? Why didn't he wake from it like he always had? Judging from the soft light pouring into the den through the bay window, it was only just after dawn, and he was sure he had fallen asleep in the late afternoon. Gabriel frowned deeply, his brow creasing. Had he slept the entire time? No, that couldn't have been right.

Gabriel was then vaguely aware of something else: he wasn't alone. He wondered how he didn't notice the sound of the soft snores behind him, the warm breath tickling his neck, and the firm press of a body at his back. One long arm was draped around his midsection, and he followed the length of it with his eyes, over a strong forearm covered in a light layer of soft hair, a thick wrist that looked practically unbreakable, and long, rather lovely looking fingers that were loosely curled over his own hand. The soldier hadn't noticed that before now, either.

Sam's lanky body was pretty much entangled with his, and Gabriel found it difficult to suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. Those long legs positioned so awkwardly, it couldn't have been at all comfortable for the kid. The soldier made a move to turn over, but the slight shift in position had Sam starting awake with a gasp.

Gabriel lay perfectly still, cursing himself for having woken Sam. Again.

He was bad at this.

"Gabe?" Sam's voice was groggy against the shell of his ear. "You okay?"

The soldier frowned and moved to sit up, turning to let a good look at the young man's tired face. That mussed mop of thick hair and those sleepy hazel eyes were definitely a sight he didn't mind waking up to. "I'm fine, I…" He was vaguely aware of Sam's hand at his hip. "Sam, did I really sleep as long as I did?"

Sam repositioned himself more comfortably, now laying flat on his back. He squinted, seeming to only then notice the rays of dawn light coming in through the window. "Huh. I guess so."

"How?" Gabriel asked. "I don't remember waking from a night terror."

"That's because you didn't."

The soldier just stared. That couldn't have been right.

"You had one not too long after you fell asleep, but it was just starting out, so I just kind of…" Sam seemed to struggle with the right words while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "…I just kind of held you through it? I guess that's what I did. I crawled onto the couch and held you and you just calmed right down in my arms." He smiled, slow and fond. "Didn't even open your eyes."

Gabriel took a few long moments to process what Sam had just revealed. Had he really slept through a night terror for the first time since returning from the war? Could they really be eased so easily? Was comfort all he needed this entire time?

"You…" Gabriel breathed as though his voice had been stolen from him. "Sam, you… you did this? You're the reason I slept all night?"

Sam shrugged. "I suppose so."

Before a single thought of hesitation could even cross Gabriel's mind, he was reaching out, cupping that soft, handsome face in either of his calloused hands, and pushing their mouths together. The action was impulse-driven and downright crazy, but God damn it if it wasn't something that hadn't crossed Gabriel's mind more times than he could count on both hands. And after everything this kid had done for him, he could fight it no longer.

Sam sucked in air through his nose, tensing to the point of being stone-like under the soldier's touch. He didn't move, didn't breathe, and when the kiss wasn't returned, Gabriel was struck with the realization of his actions and immediately pulled away, his eyes widened and heart sinking until it settled in his gut.

He mentally kicked himself. Repeatedly.

"Aw, jeez…" The soldier covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, kiddo, I shouldn't have done that."

"N-no, Gabriel, it's ok—"

"I don't even know what I was thinkin'. I'm sorry… it just sorta happened, and I should've been able to control myself."

Now, there were few things in this world that could take Lieutenant General Gabriel Milton by surprise. He had the ability to hear the sharp whistle of a plummeting bomb before it struck, which granted him those few precious seconds to get out of dodge. He could read people easily, simply by how they handled themselves in a moment of fear or panic. His instincts were sharp, his reactions quick. Not much could fool him, shock him, or leave him befuddled.

Not until this. Not until Sam Winchester had taken hold of his sweater in those big, beautiful hands of his, and drew him close until their mouths met a second time.

"Mm…" Gabriel made a soft, almost whimpering sound, against Sam's lips, his hands raised, but hesitant to touch the kid. His heart had leapt up from where it had sunk in his gut, and was now lodged somewhere in his throat.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, and lasted only a couple of seconds but, when Sam pulled away, Gabriel was practically breathless. They regarded each other for a few long moments, eyes searching, Sam's fingers still curled into the warm wool of the sweater he had lent Gabriel.

"Well," Gabriel forced himself to speak, his voice nought but a breath. "That was unexpected."

All at once, the familiar pink blush appeared on Sam's cheeks, and he dropped his eyes bashfully. His fingers clenched and unclenched the fabric in his hands, as though contemplating whether or not to let go. Gabriel didn't want him to. Ever. But, he did. Releasing his hold on the soldier's sweater, Sam lay back down flat on the couch, his hazel eyes falling closed. He didn't sleep, but seemed so at ease, so content. Gabriel had to smile, and he wondered if this was the first time since Dean's death that Sam had felt this much at peace.

Scooting closer across the couch, Gabriel leaned down to rest his head on the firm, broad plane that was Sam's chest. It was an odd position, awkward, and a little sore on his back considering the rest of his body was still sitting, but the soldier wouldn't move. Not yet. Not when both of Sam's arms came up and around to embrace him, fingers tangling through the back of his hair and gripping gently. Not when he distinctly heard the boy's heartbeat pick up under his ear.

Gabriel shut his eyes, letting them breathe together. Let the rhythmic thudding of Sam's heart lull him into a state of such utter peace, safety, and comfort, that tears sprung forth and spilled over his cheeks.

This boy had done so much. Changed so much. It was overwhelming.

"Thank you," Gabriel managed to choke. "For everything, just… thank you. Thank you."

The grip Sam had on him tightened and, before he knew it, Gabriel was being drawn up, closer and closer still, until he had no choice but to crawl right onto the boy's body and settle himself over him. Their legs interlocked, chests pressed flush together, faces only inches apart. It was perfect how easily they seemed to fit together, all spaces filled, like two pieces of the very same puzzle. Sam was thumbing away the tracks of tears still present on Gabriel's cheeks, and then lifted his head to kiss away the ones still beaded on his lashes.

Gabriel almost sobbed. Seizing Sam's jaw in one shaky hand, he kissed him full on that beckoning mouth of his; deep and desperate, drawing a quivered sound from the back of the boy's throat. Sam's lips were petal soft, sweet as honey. Gabriel had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. The boy's large hands had managed to slip beneath Gabriel's sweater, palms caressing his back, long fingers splaying out and tracing over every raised scar they found. Gabriel arced into them, knowing they would keep him grounded, keep him still and whole and safe.

Sam was smiling against the kisses. Gabriel could feel it, and he pulled back just slightly to look down upon the boy. They were both panting, sharing the same warm, shaky breaths, as though they'd just emerged from being underwater for too long a time. Drowning in each other; that's what they were doing. Submerging themselves and drowning in kisses and touches until their minds fogged out and their lung screamed for air.

What a perfect way to die.

A tiny, glowing white image of the window next to them was reflected in each of Sam's hazel eyes, and the soldier circled a finger tenderly over the dimple in his cheek.

"What're you smiling at?" he asked softly.

"You," Sam said simply. "You make me smile in times when I forget how to."

For the first time in a good long while, the soldier was struck positively speechless, and wasn't that just the nicest surprise. A few of the boys in his Company would have hollered with joy had they seen him right now. Gabriel had had a reputation of having a mouth on him, and he'd used it to his advantage in the field. He could slice a man to bits with just his words if he wanted to.

He would've responded to Sam, but his throat felt clogged up, his voice trapped and refusing to form words. So, instead, he just leaned in and stole kiss after kiss after kiss, plunging back into the waters and drowning all over again. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, and Gabriel didn't hesitate to glide his tongue passed the boy's lips, letting it explore and taste every last inch of that hot, wet cavern.

Soft-tipped fingers dug into the muscles of Gabriel's back, and Sam released a moan that had them both shuddering. The slow, lazy sparring of their tongues had Gabriel's mind in a dizzying whirl. He wanted more. Craved more.

And then Bobby's voice hollering from the top of the stairs ripped them both from the waters and back into reality.

"Ya idgits awake, yet?" The gruff voice called out. "Buses are up and running again."

It took Sam a minute to gather enough breath to return a shaky "Y-yeah! Yeah, we're up, Bobby."

They both listened as the older man's heavy footsteps faded away, probably to return to his room to get dressed for the day. Gabriel sat up on Sam's lap and turned his attention outside at the bright, clear morning. The streets were free of most of the snow, and neighbours were out cleaning their driveways and wiping the white dusting off of their automobiles. A cold wash of disappointment flooded through the soldier.

He had to return home today.

Sam sat up as well, and his hands were still slipped under Gabriel's sweater. He was gripping the soldier's hips, now, thumbs pressing into lean muscle, tracing the line that dipped and disappeared into Gabriel's trousers. The soldier hummed deep in his throat, especially when Sam leaned in to give the underside of his chin an affectionate nuzzle with his nose.

"C'mon…" the boy murmured. "I'll make you some coffee."

It was slow, the way they climbed off the couch together, limbs untangling and clothing rearranged. The cold emptiness between their separated bodies was all too noticeable, and it was as though they wanted to draw out the warmth of contact for as long as possible. Sam was the one who stepped away first, fingertips lingering on Gabriel's hips, before he turned and headed toward the kitchen to prepare the morning's coffee.

Heart going off like gunfire in his chest, Gabriel stood motionless, watching the boy disappear out of the doorway and down the hall, all the while dreading the moment when he'd have to say goodbye.

* * *

><p>Sam had to admit: a single full night's rest did absolute wonders for Gabriel. The soldier was alert, energized, and that had nothing to do with the three cups of coffee he'd already downed before nine. The bags under Gabriel's eyes didn't look so deep, the dark circles not so dark. It was like a firecracker had gone off in the kitchen with the amount of light and power simply pouring out of the other man. Even his limp didn't seem as prominent, or maybe Gabriel was just so relaxed and refreshed that the pain wasn't worth focusing on.<p>

Either way, Sam felt inexplicable joy at the sight of seeing Gabriel and Bobby laughing together in the breakfast nook over their coffees. The light that had been snuffed out in this home since Dean's passing had finally begun to glow again.

They had a simple breakfast: toast with raspberry jam and coffee. It was nothing special, but Sam found himself enjoying it more than he should have, especially when Gabriel discretely reached across the table when Bobby's attention was focused on the newspaper, and used his thumb to wipe the sticky jam off of the corner of Sam's mouth.

It was terrifying, the things this man made Sam feel in the short amount of time they had known each other. Sam was not supposed to care this much, want this much of someone.

When the time came for Gabriel to finally head to the bus stop, Sam waited in the narrow hallway next to Dean's portrait while the soldier dressed back into the clothes he'd first arrived in. Hands wrung together, he lifted his eyes and stared at the smiling face of his brother behind the glinting glass in the simple frame. Sam could almost hear Dean's voice now, telling him to man-up, and that just cause you said goodbye to someone it didn't always mean they'd be gone forever.

Not unless they were killed in the war.

But, Gabriel wasn't going back to war, was he. He was just going home. Nothing deadly about that. Nothing worth fretting about.

"Don't look at me that way," Sam muttered at the portrait. "You never came back. Dad never came back. I have every right to be scared each time someone steps out that door." Sighing, he pushed fingers back through his thick hair, still focused on the captured smile on Dean's face. "Maybe… scared isn't the right word for it. Worried maybe? I don't know."

The truth was: Sam _was_ worried. Not because he expected a grenade to come flying in from out of nowhere and obliterate the soldier. Not because he expected there to be gunfire as soon as the door swung open.

It was the night terrors. Gabriel would continue to have them, regardless of how good a sleep he had the night before. It was never that easy to get rid of something so severe. And there would be no one there with him to bring him comfort, to give him that sense of safety he so desperately needed. Sam dreaded thinking about Gabriel gasping awake in the middle of the night, trembling, terrified, and alone, with the burn of whiskey as his only aid.

"I just wish I could help him as much as he's helped me, you know?" Sam asked his brother's image. "I mean, I can walk inside your room, now. I can smile again. I'm finally thinking about applying to Stanford, and it's all because of the things Gabriel did. I mourned you for months like I was dead inside, and then he came and slapped me back to life."

The creak in the hallway upstairs alerted Sam that Gabriel was done dressing, and was heading down.

"I'll say one thing, though," The slightest hint of a smile tugged at Sam's mouth. "I have a feeling that you're the one who sent him to me. If you hadn't given him your jacket that day, he would never have needed a reason to come here. I wouldn't have known he even existed." He laughed softly. "Call me nuts all you like, and I have a feeling you are right now, but it just seems like something you'd do. You always looked out for me, Dean."

Gabriel's approaching footsteps drew Sam's attention away, and he grinned at the sight of the soldier on the stairs, clad in his own trousers, button-down, and blazer, caramel hair freshly showered and feathery soft.

"Ah, feels good to be wearing clothes that fit again," the soldier winked. "Not that I really minded the ones you let me borrow."

Sam eyed Gabriel closely as he limped over to gather up his pilot's jacket. "Actually, I think I prefer you in my clothing."

Gabriel paused before he could stuff his second arm into his jacket, and gave the much taller man a mischievous little smirk. "My, my, look at you. Getting fresh with me, kiddo?"

"Maybe," Sam had to mirror the smirk, before leaning down and brushing their lips together in a long, sweet kiss.

His hands cradled Gabriel's face, and the soldier quickly slipped the rest of his jacket on so that he could stand on his tiptoes and curl his arms right around Sam's strong neck. The man was so damn short, that Sam had thoughts of lifting him up, but decided against it. If he had Gabriel fully in his arms, if those legs wrapped around his hips… well, Sam would rather not imagine the things he might do. Not with his uncle still in the house.

"You'll be okay, won't you?" Sam breathed against Gabriel's mouth when they finally parted for air. "On your own, I mean. With the night terrors?"

Gabriel's eyes, warm and gold like bottled honey, crinkled at the very corners when he smiled. "Yeah, I'll be all right."

"You're sure? These things don't go away so easily."

"Shh…" Gabriel kissed him again to shut him up, which worked. "Stop worrying about me, kiddo. I've dealt with a million times worse. These things I can handle."

The boy sighed heavily and pressed their foreheads together, Gabriel's words doing little to bring him comfort. "I wish I could do more for you."

"You've done enough. More than enough. Now, quit pouting and keep kissing me."

Sam obliged more than willingly, lips suckling and teeth scraping and biting over Gabriel's mouth until he was certain that some form of mark was being left behind. Their tongues danced, and the soldier almost went limp in his arms.

"Mm…" Gabriel huffed a breath as he smiled. "Damn, you're good at that."

Sam had to blush. "Did you say goodbye to my uncle, yet?"

"Mhm. Upstairs when I was done dressing,"

"You have your flask?"

"In my pocket." Gabriel nodded and pulled away, smoothing down the front of his jacket and fixing his hair. "Well… guess I should head out. The bus will be at the stop in less than ten minutes, and God knows I'm not exactly the fastest walker."

Sam led him to the front door and opened it wide, inviting in a gust of icy wind and the occasional dancing flurry. Outside, the world was blinding white and beautiful. There were some children across the street busy building a snowman, their laughter bright and clear in Sam's ears. During the war, it had been so hard to believe that there would ever be this kind of peace again.

He supposed he had Gabriel and all the men of his Company to thank for that.

Gabriel took Sam's hand in his and brought it up to his face, where he proceeded to press a long, lingering kiss to his palm. For a split second, Sam forgot his own name.

"You take care of yourself, kiddo," the soldier whispered hot against his skin.

Sam swallowed hard and caressed Gabriel's strong, angular jaw with the pad of his thumb. "You, too."

Those were the only words the two of them exchanged. There were no goodbyes, and Sam was beyond thankful for that. A goodbye seemed too final. He'd said goodbye far too many times, only to have that person never return. As they parted, Sam watched with a heavy heart while Gabriel carefully limped down the icy steps and trudged through the ankle-deep layer of sparkling snow toward the sidewalk. He turned, then, and gave one last wave of farewell while the sun glinted through his silky caramel hair and lit up his eyes, even at a distance.

It took Sam's breath away.

He looked downright angelic.


	7. Part 7

**Part Seven**

Through the sheet of white flurries that tumbled quietly from the darkened sky above, Gabriel could see the flickering red neon sign of Pamela's Diner just ahead. He was bundled up to his ears, and he shoved his frozen numb hands into the pockets of his jacket while trudging through the snow. His breath escaped him in little white plumes of vapour, and the pain in his knee was far beyond comparison at the moment. The joint was not fond of cold, and was stiffening up on him fast. He practically winced with each step.

Still, this wasn't the worst he'd been through.

Back during the Siege of Bastogne, he and his men had been huddled in foxholes with very little ammo, and no winter gear to keep them warm. He recalled wearing thin leather gloves, blankets torn up to create scarves, two jackets at once. Their boots were sturdy, but hardly enough to keep out the cold and wet. They hadn't been able to build full bonfires, due to their close parameter with the enemy lines, and were only able to create a flame small enough to heat up tin cups of black coffee or soup. Men had lost many limbs due to frost bite. Since then, Gabriel had been fully convinced that Hell was not filled with scalding fires, but was entirely made up of ice and snow. There was no greater torture than slowly freezing to death.

Upon reaching the diner, Gabriel shoved the glass door open and stepped inside, something short of a moan escaping him when he was greeted with heat. Flurries danced in with him, and he quickly shut out the cold. His nose immediately began to run, and he sniffled, rubbing at his reddened cheeks to get the warmth back into them. Pamela's Diner was a fairly small establishment, cozy, with black and blue tiled floors and soft music pouring out of the juke box in the far corner. The scent of coffee, baked goods, and the fry of burgers lingered in the air, and Gabriel didn't hesitate to breathe it all in.

Snow brushed from his jacket and sleet kicked off his boots, he moved through the narrow walkway, passed the booths of rich red leather benches, glossy black tables, and the multicoloured overhanging lamps that seemed to sway along with the music. At the bar, a tall woman with thick raven hair swept up into an elegant bun was busy pouring coffee for an older balding gentleman in a sharp suit who was too preoccupied with his newspaper to say thank you. Perhaps gentleman wasn't the right word for him.

"Evenin', Pamela." Gabriel smiled.

The woman lifted her head at his greeting, red lips spreading into a toothy grin that reached a pair of bright, lovely pale green eyes and dark, arched eyebrows. She was a donning the 'lady in red' look tonight, wearing what looked to be a scarlet silk blouse under her apron that perfectly matched the red scarf she had wrapped around her head and tied in a pretty little bow. Gabriel had a feeling there were a pair of red high heels that matched, and was proven right when she came rushing out from behind the counter to wrap him in a suffocating hug.

Pamela Barnes had always looked her best, even as a small child when they had gone to school together. Her father had owned the diner beforehand, and when Gabriel was ten, he had given Gabriel one free chocolate milkshake every day if he helped lug the crates of kitchen supplies in from the back door. Sweets were a far better reward than money when Gabriel was a kid.

Hell, they were still just as good now.

"Gabriel, I haven't seen you since the week you returned," Pamela swatted his arm gently with a cloth she had been holding. "Way to tell a girl you're not gonna visit!"

The soldier laughed, dodging a second smack as he replaced his natural Tennessean drawl with a badly imitated French accent. "Why do you sink I'm here, now, mon amour? I've come to sweep you away and rekindle our passionate romance under ze stars."

She snorted and moved back behind the bar, but made sure to whip the cloth against his ass as she went. They were like siblings, the two of them. "You here for a cup of coffee? You look like you need one."

Gabriel had a feeling she was right about that. In the two weeks since he'd left Sam's place, the soldier had gone back to his restless nights, drowning himself in alcohol as he waited for the sun to rise each morning. He probably looked like he'd been run over twice. The day he'd slept for hours in Sam's arms seemed like a far distant and unachievable memory, now.

"Nah, I'm actually here to meet someone," Gabriel shook his head when she lifted the coffee pot in offering.

"Let me guess: tall, blonde, soldier-type? Shamelessly runs his eyes over anything with legs and a pulse?" She asked.

"That's him."

She motioned across the bar to a booth near the swinging blue doors that led to the kitchen. "Right over there. Got here about ten minutes before you did." When Gabriel turned, she added, "He's already ordered, so would you like your usual meal? I'd rather give you your food at the same time. One less trip means one less time he eyes me like a pound of veal."

"Sounds good," Gabriel's stomach growled at the thought of his favourite meal. "Oh, and don't take anything he does to heart, Pam. He does it with every beautiful lady he sees. The guy's perfectly harmless."

"Uh huh," She wiped a few droplets of spilled coffee from the counter. "If I so happen to knock a steaming cup of coffee onto his lap as I pass by, just act as though it's accidental."

When Gabriel reached the booth at the far end of the Diner, the broad-shouldered blonde didn't bother to raise his head, eyes focused on the wrinkled newspaper he'd settled on the table next to his cup of pale tea. The front headlines were still in post-war mode, articles detailing the progress of new technology, medicine, and weaponry since the battle had ended with Japan's surrender. He probably hadn't heard Gabriel's approach, being deaf in one ear and all, but before the soldier could reach a hand out to tap his shoulder, the silence was broken.

"Just cause I can't hear you coming doesn't mean I don't know you're there, sir," came a deep, velvet smooth voice just hinting in an accent that belonged across the seas. Two pale blue eyes lifted to lock onto his. "I saw you walk in."

"You haven't lost your touch, Balthy," Gabriel said.

It had been months since Gabriel had laid eyes upon his finest weapon's specialist, so it was no surprise that, as soon as Balthazar stood, they embraced tightly and with no intention of letting go too soon. Gabriel was a fair deal shorter than the other soldier—he'd come to accept the fact that nearly everyone would tower over him—and he pressed his face into the elegant silk vest he wore over a simple blue button-down. Gabriel would have never suspected his comrade to be such a sharp dresser with his only memories of him being clad in an olive green uniform stained with dirt and dust and blood. He could almost still smell the gunpowder that was always present on Balthazar's skin.

"You look good, mate," Balthazar murmured into his hair as they broke apart, and he held Gabriel out at arms length. "Apart from looking like a drowned rat, that is."

Gabriel snorted, not entirely sure if he'd missed Balthazar's bluntness as much as he'd missed Balthazar. "I had to walk six blocks to get here, you know. In the blizzard."

"No complaining. At least we're not in Bastogne."

Gabriel clapped his shoulder. "You're right about that.

Balthazar sat back down and motioned to the bench across from him, where Gabriel immediately planted himself. "I see that limp of yours hasn't gotten any better. You see the doctor about that?"

"Once, about a week after I returned." He shrugged out of his coat and scarf, laying them both down on the seat next to him to dry. He pushed his fingers back through his damp hair, the tips still frozen. "They said there was nothing that could be done about it except keep it strong and hope it improves."

Balthazar nodded, tapping at his left ear. "They spat out the same nonsense about my ear. Too much damage, no treatment, so just hope for the best." He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I swear, it's like they're all reading from the same script."

Just then, Pamela approached the table with a tray-full of food, which carried a mouth-watering scent right to Gabriel's nose. She set the frothy chocolate shake down first, her elegant pointed nose wrinkling when she sensed Balthazar's stare on her.

"Eyes on the food, sugar," she said while setting the two plates down before them. "I'm not on the menu."

"And isn't that a shame?" Balthazar purred.

Pamela could not have sauntered away quicker if she had kicked off her heels, and Gabriel chuckled. "Easy on her, Balthy. She may be pretty, but kitty has claws."

"Just how I like them." The blonde grinned before digging into his meal of eggs Benedict, bacon, and home fries. The best part about Pamela's Diner was the fact that you could have breakfast at seven o'clock in the evening. "You have your eye on any lovely thing nowadays?"

Gabriel drew thick gulps of his shake through his straw, images of the morning two weeks ago flashing through his mind as though being played on a film reel. Sam, sprawled on the couch beneath him, warm and sleepy and utterly gorgeous in the lazy dawn light, their mouths melded together in long, sweet kisses. The soldier nearly choked when he cleared his throat without fully swallowing first, coughing and wiping his lips with a nearby napkin.

"U-um…" Gabriel shifted awkwardly. "You could say that."

Balthazar's eyes lit up like a woman hearing a tidbit of juicy gossip at her neighbourhood Bridge meeting. "Ooh, that right? And what is this sweetheart of yours like?"

Gabriel took a moment to swallow a few bites of his meal before answering. French toast doused in real maple syrup, powdered sugar, and fresh berries. Pamela knew his preference for sweet things more than anyone. "One of the most intelligent people I've ever known. Sharp and astute, warm, compassionate, a bit of a worrier, but knows how to make me laugh." He smiled softly to himself, trailing the prongs of his fork through the puddle of syrup on the plate. There was a flutter in his chest he couldn't ignore. "Never met anyone like that before…"

There was a long moment of silence, then, "Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"You're grinning like a schoolgirl."

The soldier laughed and snapped out of his daze in an embarrassed rush, flinging the balled-up napkin across the table to gently smack against Balthazar's head. "Shut it."

Balthazar gulped down his tea. "What's this lovely lady's name, if I may ask?"

Gabriel pressed his lips together in a tight line, not liking having to lie to a comrade he respected so much and loved like a brother. But, being what he was and being attracted to who he was attracted to was not common and not considered right to most people. Bobby had been the rare exception.

He'd hid it his entire life. He could keep going.

"You think I'd tell you?" Gabriel played off the uncomfortable question with a dismissive flick of his wrist and a joke. "You'd just end up stealing her."

"Well, the way you describe her, I say she's quite the catch," Balthazar smirked and pointed to him with his fork. "You hold onto your sweetheart."

Before the war, Gabriel had never made a promise that he'd give his life to keep. It was only during the violent throes of battle, with the lives so many of his men on the line, that he'd make the oath to keep them alive even if it meant sacrificing himself. Now, with Sam's face at the forefront of his mind, Gabriel knew he'd gladly promise his life away again if it meant keeping his hold on the boy that had captivated him forever.

"Trust me," he said softly. "I'm not letting go anytime soon."

They took time in finishing their meals, catching up on the past few months since being shipped home and reminiscing the few rare and wonderful good times they'd shared with the boys overseas. Balthazar had managed to keep in contact with Chuck after he was discharged, and informed Gabriel that their former strategist was in the process of completing his first book for the publishers. A paranormal mystery novel about two brothers who hunted things that went bump in the night. Gabriel made a note to search for it once it was released. It sounded good.

By the time their table was cleared and the bill was split between them, it was well past nine, and Pamela was getting ready to close up the Diner. She bid Gabriel farewell and a safe walk back home with a kiss on the cheek that left a bright red lipstick smear on his skin. Balthazar asked for one, too. He just got shooed with the broom.

"My balls are going to fall off if it gets any colder," Balthazar mumbled into the scarf wrapped around his face when they emerged back into the winter night. The snow had thankfully ceased its fall, but the bone-chilling cold was still as present as ever. "You heading my way? I'm taking the bus."

Gabriel shook his head, fingers fumbling with trying to tuck the ends of his gloves into his jacket sleeves. "Bus doesn't pass by my house, and it's a longer trip walking from the station than from here. I'll just hike it."

"Sure your leg can handle it?"

"If it could handle Bastogne, it can handle this," Gabriel shivered. "I'll just throw myself in front of the wood-burning stove as soon as I get in. Should take a week or so to thaw myself out."

Balthazar nodded once, but didn't speak, didn't start walking. He just stared down at his Lieutenant General, and Gabriel could see the worry clear in his eyes. It was the way most people looked at him these days, as though he was about to spontaneously combust at any moment.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel sighed in exasperation.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Balthazar asked softly.

Gabriel shook his head. He was tired of this question. Tired of people constantly bringing up the issue he tried so hard to forget about. "I'm fine, Balthy."

Powder blue eyes narrowed dangerously in his direction. "You unknowingly stepped on a land mine I had risked my life to disarm only moments before. I'm the reason you even have legs right now, so you at least owe me the truth, Gabriel."

Gabriel sighed, punching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. Stupid unpaid debts. "I'm having bad nightmares, all right? They wake me up in the middle of the night, and keep me from falling back asleep."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since I got home from the war."

"Hm," Balthazar took a moment to absorb the information. "I suppose I don't have to ask about the content of these dreams, then."

Gabriel huffed, shifting his weight off of his bad leg. "No kidding."

"Have you tried going to a therapist about these things?" Balthazar asked. "So you can talk about them? Maybe have a professional opinion on how you can fix this?"

The shorter soldier rolled his eyes. "Please, Balth. They can't do squat to help me."

"Have you tried?"

"No, but—"

"Then don't assume they can't do anything for you, Gabriel," Balthazar's usual velvet voice had taken on a hard, commanding tone. One Gabriel remembered from the battlefield. "You've hardly gained much weight back, your eyes are sunken in and you look like you're about to fall over at any moment. If you let this go on without help, it'll get worse."

Gabriel's shoulders dropped, and he held his arms out, voice softening. "Balth… How is some doctor who spends his hours sitting on a couch with a notepad going to help me? Listening to my problems won't do anything. Enough people already do that."

"Yes, but the therapist will actually know the best method to get your sleeping schedule back into existence and get these nightmares taken care of." Balthazar shrugged. "It's worth a try, at least. No harm in it."

Gabriel hummed, scepticism still nipping at him. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "I'll… consider it."

"You were always a stubborn bastard."

Gabriel smiled softly, before drawing his comrade in for one last embrace. They held on a bit longer this time, savouring the farewell. Though the dangers of the open battlefield could no longer bring them harm, it would take a long time for either of them to feel safe again, to feel like saying goodbye didn't necessarily mean forever.

When they finally parted ways, and Gabriel headed back down his same snow-trodden path toward his home, Balthazar's words continued to dance around inside his skull. Could actually speaking to a professional about his nightmares truly get rid of them? It seemed unlikely. Crazy people could talk as much as they wanted, and it didn't make them any less crazy. Depressed folks could spill about every moment in their life, and it didn't make 'em any less depressed. What good could talking do? There was no medicine that could treat this.

There was no hope for him.

With the bitter wind picking up as the minutes ticked on, Gabriel was relieved to have finally reached his street. His apartment just ahead, with a warm fire waiting for him inside, he threw all caution to the wind and picked up his pace, ignoring whatever throb of pain decided to shoot up from his knee. He was so brutally tired of winter.

A figure, dark and huddled in a ball for warmth, was waiting for him on his front steps. It was more snow than person, with no discernable head or limbs, and as Gabriel slowed to a stop right at his front gate, he stared and wondered if the form was still alive. It barely moved. The soldier reached to the back of his belt, numb fingers fumbling as they found the familiar rough hilt of the knife he always kept hidden on his person. Wherever Gabriel went, a weapon was concealed somewhere on him. Old habits died hard.

"Hello?" He called out over the roar of wind.

All at once, the figure rose at the sound of his voice, the thin blanket of snow tumbling off of a pair of broad shoulders and a wet mop of dark hair. Though the face was hidden behind a wool scarf, and whatever skin remained exposed was nearly blue with cold, those almond-shaped hazel eyes were something Gabriel would recognize until the last moments of his life.

"Sam?!" Gabriel released his hold on the knife and rushed forward. He grabbed hold of the boy's arms, fearful of having him fall over. "Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing out here, kid?"

Sam was shivering. "I-I took a b-bus here… Arrived at e-eight, I think? K-knocked on your d-door, b-but no one was h-home… S-s-so, I waited…"

"You've been out here for over an hour? Are you bonkers, kid?! You're freezing!" Gabriel fumbled for his keys, and quickly unlocked his front door. He wasn't sure if it was the cold that was making his hands shake. "Quick, get inside."

Sam staggered into the house when he was told, practically groaning when the lingering heat from the wood burning stove in the den hit his icy cheeks. He tried to undo his coat, remove all his snow-soaked winter gear, but he was shivering too much. He could barely get hold of one button. Once stripped of his own things, Gabriel came forward and batted Sam's big hands away, quickly stripping off his scarf, coat, and mitts. Even Sam's sweater was wet, and the soldier rid him of that as well.

If his attention wasn't mainly focused on getting the boy as warm as possible, Gabriel would have probably taken the time to admire what was hidden beneath that sweater: a broad chest, powerful and defined shoulders, thick arms, and a belly rippled with lean muscle. Gabriel made a mental note to get back to that later.

Without hesitation, and ignoring Sam's stuttered protests and flushed cheeks, the soldier unclasped the kid's trousers and yanked them down off his hips, leaving Sam in just a dark pair of cotton boxers. Tossing the soaked garments aside, Gabriel jabbed a finger in the direction of the den.

"Go. Sit by the fire." He used the same firm, but gentle tone he would if he were commanding a fellow soldier in need. "Get warm."

Sam didn't need to be told twice, and as the kid headed for the inviting heat in the den, Gabriel fetched as many warm blankets and pillows as he could physically carry from the linen closet. Sam was already huddled up in front of the fire, and Gabriel threw the mound of blankets onto the rug in front of the wood burning stove, making a nest, surrounding Sam in fabric and pillows and wrapping him up until it looked impossible for the kid to move if he wanted to. Gabriel knelt in front of the kid and cupped his face, using his thumb to rub the warmth back into his cheek. Some of his color was returning.

"Feel better?" He asked softly, the adrenaline finally draining from his body, leaving him sore and humming with pain.

Sam nodded, leaning into Gabriel's touch. "Yeah… Thank you."

"What the hell are you doing here, Sam?" The soldier asked, switching hands to rub warmth into his opposite cheek. "It's been weeks since we've seen each other."

"I know, I… I came to see you. See if you were okay."

Gabriel frowned. "Whata'ya mean?"

"I haven't been resting well back home, wondering I your nightmares were getting worse. I keep thinking about you being awake, struggling with them all by yourself." Sam admitted. "I picked up a few books from the library about Shell Shock and sleep deprivation, and the things I read really bothered me." He sniffled, and rubbed his reddened nose.

"Like what?" Gabriel had to ask, brow knit tightly together.

"If you're still not sleeping, your mental health will start to go, too." Sam said grimly. "You'll get depressed, confused, maybe even hallucinate. Your body will start to shut down, you'll be in constant pain, your mood will fluctuate. I can already see you've lost weight since we last saw each other. Your face is thinner." The kid was trembling, now. "You… you could die from this Gabriel."

The soldier swallowed hard, mouth dry, heart hammering in his chest. "Sam—"

"You can't go on like this," Sam pleaded, cutting him off. "I can't… I can't lose someone else. Not after everything I've been through with my parents, and with Dean. I can't have another person I care about leave me."

Reaching out, Gabriel took Sam's face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "Hey, kiddo, I ain't going anywhere."

"You don't know that," Sam's voice was thick. "If the lack of sleep doesn't kill you, a gun to the head will. With the constant nightmares, the never-ending pain, the sickness… whose to say a bullet to the skull won't be your best way out of it? There are hundreds of cases of people with Shell Shock who have taken their lives to escape. I just… I can't…"

When the tears began to fall down Sam's cheeks, Gabriel kissed them away, one by one. The very thought of Sam worrying about these kinds of things made the soldier sick to his stomach.

"I came here to help you," Sam whispered, breath tickling Gabriel's cheek. "You got a full night's sleep with me the last time you were at my house. We can do that again. I can protect you through your nightmares."

Sam's last words still ringing in the air, Gabriel stared into those captivating hazel eyes and did something he hadn't done since he returned home from the war all those months ago.

He broke down.


	8. Part 8

Sam was quick in reaching his arms out, catching the distraught soldier as he crumpled forward right before his eyes. Gabriel was outright sobbing; the wrecked, broken sounds causing a crack to form right down the middle of Sam's heart. He didn't know what to do, how to help, so he merely drew the other man against his chest and cocooned them both in the blankets that littered the floor.

"Gabe…" Sam swallowed hard, tucking Gabriel into the nook under his chin. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you so much."

The soldier was shaking his head, but the words that escaped him were nothing more than gibberish that Sam couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried. Gabriel was a mess. An absolute mess, and the only thing Sam thought to do was hold him as close as possible and ease his suffering. He tucked the soldier's head under his chin, and felt the wetness of his tears drip onto his collarbone like a warm spring rain.

While Gabriel quivered and hiccupped through his tears, Sam buried his nose into his hair and breathed in, inhaling the scent of winter and spices and just a hint of that sweetness that Sam knew belonged only to the soldier. He shut his eyes, and a sudden memory flickered to life in the darkness of his mind:

Him, only six years old, curled up and utterly tiny on his big brother's lap much like Gabriel was right now. He'd been crying, his eyes bloodshot and sore, nose sniffly; there was a thunderstorm raging just outside. He'd been terrified, but Dean had come as soon as he'd heard the wails in the middle of the night, cradling Sam in the lanky, awkward limbs of a growing ten year old boy. And then he sang; a slow, sweet lullaby that their mother had written for them, his voice barely a whisper so as not to wake their father. Sam had never had the pleasure of hearing his mother sing it, of knowing her voice; she'd died when he was an infant, but Dean had memorized the words like they'd been engraved right into his soul. The lullaby, soothing and gentle, speaking promises of protection and hope, had eased Sam through his fears.

Now, as he stared down at the broken soldier that had gone beyond expectations to help Sam through his own turmoil, the boy wondered if he could do the same for him. Licking his dry lips, he swallowed hard, pressed his cheek to Gabriel's brow, and began to sing the words his mother had written all those years ago.

"_Hush now, my darling, and shut your big eyes_

_The angels, they watch you, now, up in the skies,_

_Their wings are enfolding, like blankets of white,_

_Protecting you close, as you dream through the night._

_Hush, hush, the angels are watching,_

_Hush, hush, as they sing you away,_

_Their harps and their trumpets play songs for your dreamland,_

_Until you awake to the light of the day._

_Hush now, my darling, the angels are near,_

_They stand at your bedside, and banish your fear,_

_The darkness can't find you, the demons, they hide,_

_For the beauty of Heaven stays close at your side._

_Hush, hush, the angels are watching,_

_Hush, hush, as they sing you away,_

_Their harps and their trumpets play songs for your dreamland,_

_Until you awake to the light of the day."_

When Sam finished singing, he realized that he, too, was crying. The tears were quiet streams that stained his cheeks, and he wiped them dry with the backs of his fingers, Dean's ten-year old voice still echoing the melody in the back of his mind. Heart heavy but emotions finally settled, the silence that surrounded him was a surprise. There wasn't anymore sobbing, no sniffling, or whimpering. Gabriel had stilled in his arms.

The soldier was fast asleep.

As gentle as he could possibly be, Sam eased the much smaller man off of his lap and onto the comfortable nest of blankets that surrounded them. He couldn't have Gabriel wake, not after everything. The soldier deserved this sleep as though his life depended on it.

It probably did.

Gabriel was still wearing his damp clothes from outside and, with some hesitation in his actions, Sam began to undress him slowly. Button by little button, Gabriel's shirt fell open to reveal a strong, sinewy chest, marked by various scars that spoke tales of the hardships beyond the sea. Sam leaned in, and brushed his lips over each and every one of them, which granted him a soft sigh from the soldier. He didn't bother taking the shirt completely off; that would require lifting and turning Gabriel in order to get the sleeves off, and Sam wasn't about to risk sacrificing the peace on his sleeping face.

The trousers were a little easier to work with. A quick unclasp of a button and the draw down of a zipper, and they were ready to go. He eased them down gently, inch by inch off his hips and thighs, but then stopped dead. Peeking out from beneath the trousers was the beginnings of a vicious, jagged scar that nearly covered the entirety of Gabriel's left knee. The reason for his limp. The reason for his constant pain. He'd seen Gabriel try to hide the scar from him on more than one occasion, and Sam wondered if the soldier was ashamed of it. Or maybe it was a constant reminder of the last time he'd seen Dean alive.

Sam didn't see anything worth being ashamed of. He saw a mark of a hero, of a man that suffered through hell and back and still came back to fight. A man that lived every single day with the agonizing pain of battle, and still managed to smile.

The scar was beautiful, because the soldier it marked was beautiful.

Swallowing hard, Sam pulled the trousers the rest of the way down Gabriel's legs and tossed them aside. He then drew a few thick blankets close and bundled him up to his neck until it looked like there was nothing but a tuft of caramel blonde hair sticking out from the cocoon. The fire crackled soothingly in the wood burning stove nearby, keeping the room warm while bitter winter continued to rage on outside.

Sam stood, then, and padded barefoot out of the den and to the tiny kitchen right across the hall. Gabriel's home was small, a suitable size for a man living on his own, and decorated impeccably well. The wallpaper was striped like a candy cane, thin red and white lines that ran from ceiling to floor, and the cabinets and appliances were all a crisp, clean white. The linoleum floor was cool against the underside of his feet, a dark whimsical blue that perfectly matched the counter tops. A small window adorned in red and storm grey draperies revealed a quaint little backyard just beyond with what looked like the skeletal form of an old apple tree.

Sam smiled softly to himself, and then began to quietly sift through the cabinets in search of a mug. He found one, simple and black, and planned to fill it with some milk for himself from the fridge. But, when he caught sight of a tin can of hot cocoa powder, he decided something a little sweeter and richer would be better. Gabriel would appreciate a cup when he awoke as well.

He gathered what he needed; a small pot, some milk, the cocoa powder, and just a hint of butter. It was a trick his Aunt Ellen had taught him years ago. A teaspoon of butter melted into the hot chocolate made it thicker, richer, and as smooth and creamy as liquid silk. Sam fired up the stove top and got to work, stirring the ingredients together over the flame, letting the scent and the heat carry him through memories of cool autumn afternoons with Dean and his aunt in the kitchen.

It took a good fifteen minutes of straight stirring for the hot cocoa to get to the perfect temperature and consistency. He gingerly began to pour the dark brown, frothy liquid into one mug for himself, and left the rest on the stove on low heat to keep warm until Gabriel awoke.

The sudden press of lips to the middle of his back stopped Sam short, followed soon by two strong arms that closed around his stomach and held tight. The boy released a shaky breath of air, closing his much larger hands over the ones that flattened against his belly.

"You're awake…" Sam breathed.

Gabriel sighed against the skin of Sam's back, a wash of hot breath. "Mm… Got too warm by the fire, and I could smell the hot chocolate from the den."

Sam smiled sadly as he glanced at him over his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Gabriel's voice was weak, and still rough from crying. "I would've been more upset had you made hot chocolate without me." He pressed a small kiss over Sam's spine.

Turning in the soldier's arms, Sam cupped his face in both hands and drew him up for a full kiss on the mouth. Gabriel was still wearing his open button-down, but other than that, they were both only clad in boxers. Sam wondered what they looked like right now; half naked in the middle of a kitchen and tangled into each other. Someone would've probably thought they were long-time lovers.

Sam murmured against the soldier's lips. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Gabriel lazily nuzzled their faces together. "I'm sorry if you thought you upset me. You didn't. I guess all my emotions came crashing down, y'know?"

"I know," Sam nodded. "It's good to let it all out once in a while."

The soldier nodded, lips pressed tight as his eyes flicked to the floor. "Thanks… for the lullaby. It actually helped me relax a lot."

Sam smiled. "You're welcome. It was something my mother wrote for Dean when he was a baby. He's the one that sang it to me when I was small." He shook his head. "It's funny… in the weeks that followed Dean's death, I used to hum it to myself to calm down after crying. It almost felt like he was there comforting me with it."

Gabriel looked up at Sam, and the amber of his eyes caught the light so clearly that the boy was sure he could count every fleck of gold and green within them. "Did you undress me?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "I thought you'd be more comfortable without—"

Gabriel cut him off. "Did you see it?"

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, until he realized that the soldier was asking about the scar on his knee. Gabriel was eyeing him intently like only a soldier of high rank could, almost fearful of the answer he was going to receive. When Sam could only nod, Gabriel drew himself away and turned, not angry or hurt, but ashamed, just as Sam had guessed earlier.

"Gabriel…" Sam reached out and took hold of his shoulders, stilling him. "Don't hide from me. Please… It's not as bad as you think it is."

"It is," Gabriel's voice was strained. "An ugly reminder of my weakness. If I had just kept more alert, I would've been aware of the shooter that aimed for my leg. It was a foolish mistake, and now I'm left to live with this horrifying thing every damn day."

"Don't." Sam said firmly, turning the soldier around to face him and then dropping to his knees. Gabriel stared wide-eyed as Sam ran one big, gentle hand up the lean muscle of his calve, cupped the back of his knee, and lifted his leg just enough to press a tender kiss to the scar there. Gabriel had to reach back and grasp onto the nearest counter top for balance.

"S-Sam…"

"You're beautiful," Sam whispered as he ran kisses from one end of the scar to the other. "Every last inch of you, every scar and mark, because they're a part of you. Of who you are, and your story, of everything you suffered through in the war. It doesn't show weakness, Gabe. It's bravery and strength and determination. It shows how much you'll gladly go through to help others, and that's _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

Gabriel was staring at him now, jaw hanging open and moisture glistening in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged, except a sharp gasp when Sam began to trail his kisses upward, from the scar and to the soldier's thigh. Sam's mouth moved over the soft skin, nice and slow, making sure to touch every inch of it, before going higher still. He was unsure of how far he should go, of what he himself was comfortable with, as he'd never been intimate with a man before. Gabriel looked nervous, too, fingers clenching and unclenching at the lip of the countertop, his breathing shaky. When Sam's nose hit the soft cotton hem of Gabriel's boxers, he moved his mouth up, and kissed the soldier's stomach right below his navel, avoiding the one area where they were both unsure of venturing.

Sam could tell he'd gotten a physical reaction from Gabriel. Those boxers he was wearing looked tighter than they had been only minutes ago, mirroring what was now occurring below his own waist. A simple thin sheet of cotton separating them, trapping what most wanted to escape. Sam whimpered, and pushed his face into the soldier's toned belly, sighing as knowing fingers brushed through the back of his hair.

"Sam…" Gabriel's voice drew the boy's eyes upward, and what he saw in those amber depths was nothing short of unbridled heat. "Come here."

Sam didn't hesitate, rising to his full towering height and allowing Gabriel's arms to curl around his neck before their mouths crushed together. Sam's arms reached down, hooking behind each of the soldier's knees and hoisting him up with ease. Gabriel was quick in curling his legs around Sam's hips and crossing his ankles to stay firmly in place, even if Sam ever decided to let go. The boy turned, then, and pinned Gabriel to the nearest candy cane striped wall, pressing their bodies together until not even a breath could pass between them.

He could feel Gabriel's imprisoned erection press against his belly, and Sam rolled his hips upward, causing them both to moan in unison as they were met with sweet, blessed friction.

"G-Gabe..." Sam shuddered hard, breathing coming out in quick huffs. "I don't… I've never…"

"Shh," Gabriel eased his nerves with a sweet kiss. "Just like this. Do what you did before, Sam, and don't you dare stop."

Sam nodded, feeling reassured by Gabriel's words. Foreheads pressed together, he arced his hips up a second time, and his clothed cock found its way into the tight nook between Gabriel's thighs where it brushed against the bulge it found there. He gasped loudly. It was like his nerves had suddenly lit up, every inch of his body humming with sharp, overwhelming pleasure; from the joining of their hips, to the tickle of Gabriel's breath at his cheek, to the feel of calloused fingers biting into his shoulder blades. He'd never felt anything like this.

"Is… I-is this okay…?" Sam mouthed at Gabriel's ear while his hips continued their painfully slow rock upwards.

"Yes," Gabriel's voice hitched, and his heels pressed hard against the backs of Sam's legs. "Ohh, God, yes."

At this pace, it was certain that neither of them would last very long. Sam was torturous in his movements, grinding Gabriel's back into the wall, stilling his hips when they locked at the right angle and rolling until Gabriel nearly cried out. He could feel the throbbing trails left behind by the soldier's nails clawing at his back, the skin stinging when met with the cool air surrounding them. The cotton boxers that separated them had grown damp with sweat and precum, the fabric clinging to their skin and just adding yet another agonizing layer of friction between their rocking bodies.

"Ahh… S-Sam…" Gabriel's teeth were clenched.

Sam's face was buried in Gabriel's shoulder. His eyes clenched shut, his lips parted as he panted and pressed wet kisses to the soldier's salted skin. Sam hardly had much to grip onto, the muscles of his arms straining from exertion as he used the wall on either side of Gabriel to keep himself up.

Gabriel's mouth locked onto the side of Sam's throat, teeth and lips and tongue abusing the skin and nearly causing Sam to lose it right then. He whimpered, feeling the coil in his belly begin to tighten up. The bruise at the side of his neck throbbed, and Sam felt the soldier mouth the word "Mine" against the tender skin there.

Sam hissed, and curled fingers roughly through the back of Gabriel's hair, his heart hammering against his ribcage until it became the one of the only things he could focus on. "Yours," he whispered. "Only yours… Oh, God, Gabriel… G-gonna… Close…"

Gabriel held onto the boy's broad shoulders like his very life depended on it, and growled into his ear. "C-come… right now. For me."

Sam had never experienced the blast of a bomb before, but he'd read enough about them to know what to expect; blinding white light, a sudden loss of all senses for a brief moment, no sound, no thought, just immeasurable heat and shock. If he didn't know better, Sam was almost certain he was experiencing that very same thing right now. A broken, strangled cry escaped him as his hips stilled, white exploding behind his closed eyes and drowning out everything but the sheer magnitude of hot pleasure coursing through his veins, burning him from the inside out.

All at once, it was over, and Sam nearly collapsed against the man he had pinned to the wall. They had both gone limp, skin met in a sweaty, sticky embrace while their lungs screamed for breath. Sam's legs quivered with the threat of collapse, his heartbeat drummed at his ear. As the fog of release cleared, he looked up at Gabriel, who was nearly glowing from his own release.

Lifting off the wall, Sam carried the soldier out of the kitchen on shaky legs and back to the warm nest of blankets in front of the crackling fire. He kissed him the entire way there, drinking up the taste of his skin and his sweat and the sweetness of his tongue like it was all he would ever need. He lay Gabriel down gently on his back, and then peeled off their soaking wet boxers without fear or shyness of the exposure. Gabriel was still panting, sinewy chest rapidly rising and falling as though he'd just returned from a run, and remained still as Sam used a nearby blanket to wipe them both clean. He made sure to be as gentle as possible, as they were both still highly sensitized, and placed a warm kiss to the soldier's stomach once he was finished.

Gabriel hummed and reached for Sam when he stood. "Where're you going?"

"Forgot something," Sam smiled, then darted as quickly as his weak limbs would carry him back to the kitchen, where he fetched them both a mug of hot chocolate. When he returned, Gabriel had rid himself of his button-down, bundled his naked body up, and made a space for the boy to join him under the blankets. "Can't forget the cocoa."

The soldier smiled tiredly and took the offered mug, curling close to Sam's warmth when the boy dropped down to the floor beside him. Sam slipped beneath the covers and, even after everything, couldn't help but blush when Gabriel tangled their legs together. They listened to the gentle pop and crackle of the fire in the wood burning stove, sipping slowly at the sweet, rich hot chocolate while the snow danced just outside the window. The chocolate froth clung to the boy's upper lip, and he laughed softly when Gabriel playfully licked it clean, stealing a kiss as he did.

"We should get some sleep," Sam set his half-empty mug of cocoa down on the nearest table, and lay down. "It's gotta be well after midnight."

Gabriel yawned as if on cue, rubbing his exhausted eyes with the back of his hand much like a child would. He downed the last drop of cocoa in his mug, and then settled himself right over Sam, head tucked under the boy's chin. Sam welcomed his weight and his warmth, arms tightening around the much smaller man as though frightened that something might steal him away in the middle of the night.

"Sam…" Gabriel's soft, lazy voice was muffled against the skin of his throat.

"Mm?" Sam traced patterns up and down the soldier's back, mindful of every scar there, so he could give each one of them special attention.

Gabriel draped his arm over the boy's chest. "Does your uncle know you're even here?"

The boy barked out a soft laugh. "Yeah, yeah, Bobby knows. He's actually the one who forced me when I was unsure if I should come see you. He had a friend over for dinner tonight, anyways, so he wasn't alone. Our neighbour Jodi Mills. She baked the pecan pie we had the night you came by. She's always doing things for Bobby. I think she's a little sweet on him."

"Mm, good." Gabriel yawned a second time, nestling closer. There was a pause, and then, "…Sam?"

Sam forced his tired eyes open. "Mhm?"

"Could you sing to me again? It… it helps."

A smile lifted the corners of the boy's lips, and he placed a kiss to the top of Gabriel's head. As softly as he could, in a soothing tone that was more whisper than voice, he sang his mother's sweet lullaby a second time, sending the soldier deeply into sleep before he, too, followed.


	9. Part 9

The scent of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, sour and dark in Gabriel's nose. It fogged his vision, floating in dense blankets around his head, and he white-knuckled the wooden railing leading down the creaky stairs so that he didn't lose his footing. Sam's heavy, steady footsteps sounding off directly behind him told the soldier that he was doing just the same.

"Careful, kiddo," He called out behind him over the smooth, sultry sound of a saxophone belting out an unfamiliar tune just across the room.

"I never even knew this place existed," Sam stared around him, eyes wide in childlike awe.

Gabriel's chest swelled a little at the twinge of pride he felt in being able to show Sam something fresh and exciting, to be able to get him out of the confines of a house and into the bustling and wondrous nightlife that Dean would've always appreciated. This jazz club was a regular hole in the wall; small and set in the cramped basement of an old factory. Not many people were aware of it, except for the times when the music would slip out through the doors and carry out into the street outside as a mysterious echo with no visible source. Gabriel had last been here in the week before he was shipped out, and the place hadn't changed in the slightest.

It was always cold in here, the rough red brick lining the walls and the worn concrete floor doing nothing to keep out the chill of the outside world. There being no windows, the only source of lighting came from the dim, swinging overhead lamps over each table that surrounded the dance floor, and the spotlights on the stage that helped illuminate the band. The air was thick with the fog of cigar smoke, and the scent of alcohol and sickly sweet ladies perfume lingered long after the club emptied out. Bottles of booze lined the small bar pushed to the far back of the room.

Gabriel reached back and discretely entwined his fingers with Sam's as they walked further in, so as not to lose him in the dense crowd. It was busy tonight, but luckily most of the activity was around the bar and dance floor, leaving a few empty tables to snatch up. While the kid reserved their place and hung their winter jackets on the backs of their chairs, Gabriel fetched them both a glass of whiskey from the bar, and returned as fast as his bum leg would carry him.

"So?" He asked, planting himself next to Sam. "What'ya think?"

Sam closed his long fingers around his glass of booze, eyes still drinking up every detail of the new environment. "It's incredible. Every bit of it." Shy smile gracing his features, he finally looked at the soldier. "Thanks for convincing me to come."

A flutter filled Gabriel's chest. He ached to reach across the table and bring their hands together, but couldn't. Not in this environment. Not with a hundred eyes at risk of catching them. Bobby may have been accepting, but that didn't mean the rest of the world was.

It certainly had taken quite a bit of convincing to get the kid out of the apartment, especially after the restless night they'd shared. While he slept, Gabriel had suffered through night terror after night terror, and Sam had been there through every second of it, waking just in time to comfort him with soft words and kisses to his throat as gentle as a moth's wings. The soldier didn't recall waking more than once through them, only knowing of their occurrence in the late morning when he and Sam had untangled their bodies and shared a small breakfast in their blanket nest.

They'd fallen back asleep right after that, wasting the entire day napping and exchanging sweet, lazy kisses while they watched the shadows move across the walls as the hours ticked on. The sun had already set when they were both unable to fall sleep for a moment longer. Gabriel couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so rested, like he'd somehow earned back a few of the insurmountable hours the night terrors had ripped away from his sleeping schedule. He'd been bursting with energy, but Sam had appeared unsure when Gabriel suggested they spend the night out. There had been a ridiculous amount of begging, and the occasional pout before the kid had agreed. It was clear he was still worried over Gabriel's well-being, but being cooped up in the house wouldn't add improvement.

Besides, Sam needed the night out just as much as Gabriel did.

Now, donned in the dried clothes he first arrived at Gabriel's house in, Sam was gazing around the jazz club like a curious child, his senses jarred by the new scents and sights and sounds. Gabriel couldn't suppress the smug smile as he brought the cold glass of whiskey to his lips and knocked back a large gulp.

"Don't give me that look," Sam caught the smile and glared playfully.

"Look? What look?" Gabriel grinned wickedly. "Drink your whiskey."

The sudden sensation created by the tip of Sam's shoe running along the back of his calve nearly had Gabriel choking on his drink. He shivered, meeting those hazel eyes in a smouldering glare across the table. He had to white knuckle his whiskey to keep from reaching over, seizing Sam by his collar, and swallowing up that smirk of his with his lips and tongue.

"Careful, kiddo…" Gabriel practically purred out his words. "Don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves."

"You're the one who wanted to leave the house," Sam drawled softly, letting his foot travel up higher along Gabriel's thigh, before dropping back down as if nothing had happened.

Gabriel released a huff of breath and cocked his jaw, the kid having somehow made him regret choosing such a public setting. "Touché."

While Sam's attention was on the band and the swaying crowd of figures in front of the stage, Gabriel took the opportunity to allow his eyes to roam across the kid's features. His mop of chocolate hair was soft and feathery from the quick shower he'd taken before coming here, and though brushed away from his face, his stubborn bangs managed to fall forward over his brow. The dim lighting played across a strong, angular profile, and a dark blue wool sweater, the exact same one he'd worn on the day they'd met, stretched as Sam rolled his broad shoulders and crossed his arms on the table.

The thing was, there wasn't just the insistent ache of lust nagging at Gabriel. As beautiful as Sam was, as much as Gabriel wanted to be with him for the first time in every physical sense capable, hands and mouth and eyes worshipping the kid's body like it deserved, there was something else blooming at the very core of him. And it was frightening, how much it overwhelmed his thoughts. This kid had done things for him without asking for anything in return. He took time, time that should be focused on his life after the death of his brother, his application to Stanford, and used it to guide Gabriel back from the darkness and into a life without fear and nightmares.

There were times when Gabriel found himself staring at the kid in long stints, losing track of where he was going with a sentence because of how captivated he was with the boy in front of him. He found himself paying attention to Sam's little habits, like the way he would drum his fingers on his knee when he was uneasy, or the odd way his mouth would curve downward and his brows would shoot up when he was intrigued or impressed, or the way he always took his coffee black and always slept with one long leg hanging out of the blankets.

And that's when Gabriel knew with every fibre of his being how screwed he was, because he had fallen in love with Dean Winchester's little brother.

"Are you all right?" Sam suddenly asked, and Gabriel wondered if he had been staring at him this entire time.

"Hm?" Gabriel shook out his head and looked away. "Oh! Oh, yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting lost in the music, I guess."

They both turned their heads when a tall, stunning woman sauntered over to their table, looking positively sinful in an off-the-shoulder brown silk dress with dark, haunting eyes. Her hair was long and lovely, black as the night. She eyed up Sam like he was on the menu, red lips spreading into a slow, hungry smile. The woman oozed sex and heat and promises only she could fulfill. Gabriel remembered her from the last time he'd been here. She seemed to enjoy stalking through this club in search of her next partner, a predator always starving for another catch. Her name was Ruby.

"Care for a dance, stranger?" She asked Sam a low, velvet voice.

Gabriel had to bite the inside of his cheek when Sam took up her offer, ever the gentleman he was, surprising himself with the sharp sting of jealousy hitting his chest. As Sam and Ruby disappeared into the crowd, Gabriel stared down at the way the light reflected off the surface of his whiskey. He couldn't ever dance with Sam the way a woman could, not in public at least. They'd have to keep their affections as private as possible, which had Gabriel wondering if Sam would ever ache for a publicly-approved relationship; to be able to hold hands, steal a kiss, and go out for a romantic dinner. All things he could never do with Gabriel.

Gabriel sighed and drained his glass in one swig, just as a figure dropped into Sam's empty seat beside him.

"What's with the long face?" Balthazar asked with a mock pout. "Don't tell me the booze isn't as good as you remember."

Gabriel started in surprise as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Mingling. What else?" Balthazar threw his arms open. "I'm a single man. There's no crime with a little window shopping." He swigged from his bottle of beer, and then motioned to the dance floor. "Why aren't you out there shaking a leg? Well… the _good_ leg, at least."

Gabriel glared half-heartedly. "Why are you in a jazz club when you can only hear half of the music?"

Balthazar snickered. "If you can't laugh at yourself, eh?"

They clinked their drinks together, and then continued to watch the crowd. Gabriel could see Sam, now, a big goofy grin spread across his face, making his dimples stand out. He was twirling Ruby along with the music. For an incredibly lanky kid, he actually wasn't a half bad dancer. Gabriel just wished that damn hussy he was with would quit running her hands all over him as though the touches could magically melt his clothes away.

Gabriel didn't even notice the low, possessive growl building in his throat until Balthazar leaned in and followed his line of vision to the swaying couple.

"Which one of those two are you getting all animalistic over?" He asked slowly. "I never would've suspected you had a thing for Ruby, unless…"

Gabriel didn't have time to defend himself, weave some type of lie, his voice caught in his throat. He looked down at his empty glass and wished to God he had more whiskey.

"You know, the way you described your sweetheart yesterday at the diner was rather strange, really. She seemed like the absolute perfect woman, and yet you had no photographs of her, or even a name to share. Any man in their right mind would've been itching to take her out and show her off." Balthazar took a lazy swig of his beer, powder blue eyes locking onto amber. Gabriel expected to see shock in that gaze, maybe even a hint of loathing or disgust, but instead saw a soft disappointment. "That leaves two options: either she's completely made up, or she's not even a _she_ to begin with."

"B-Balth—"

"Why would you hide this from me?" There was a twinge of hurt in the blonde soldier's velvet voice. "Do you really think me that quick to judge? I've known you for six years, mate. I owe you my life tenfold, and you think something as silly as this would make me see you any different?"

Gabriel tightened his grip around the empty glass in his palm. "It isn't silly, Balth. There's a Goddamn world full of people that would be repulsed by me. If word got out that a person like me served as Lieutenant General in the US Army…" He swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. "I don't want to think about it. I've been hiding who I am since I was old enough to figure out why I was so different from everyone else. It wasn't _you_ that I was hiding from, Balth. It's the world."

Balthazar watched him closely, but didn't speak, and Gabriel was too exhausted with himself to continue. He sighed shakily, pushing fingers back through his hair. When Balthazar wordlessly offered him a cigarette, he took it gratefully. Gabriel lit up, dragged deeply, and allowed the nicotine filling his lungs to calm his nerves.

"I should've suspected this when all the men in our company had a photo of a special sweetheart to take with them to battle except for you." Balthazar laughed softly with a shake of his head. "But c'mon, Gabriel, even Dean and Castiel had something going on between them and not one of us questioned it or treated them any differently. Even that hardass Michael knew about them, God rest his soul, and he said nothing about it."

Gabriel cocked a brow. "Dean and Cas were more than friends?"

"Oh, come now. You're joking. You've have to be blind or dead not to see it!" Balthazar exclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "And the sheer fact that they died together was just a cherry on the cake of suspicion. They were both good, honourable, brave soldiers, and that's all that mattered. It should be all that matters for you, too."

Gabriel grunted around the cigarette hanging from between his lips and lifted his eyes when Sam and Ruby approached their table. She was latched onto his arm, her brown eyes hazy with thoughts that Gabriel didn't want to even try to delve into.

_Mine, _he growled in his mind.

"Well, well, who's this handsome young fellow? Tall thing, aren't you?" Balthazar cooed up at the boy. "C'mon, Gabriel, introduce us."

Gabriel cringed. Subtlety had always been a foreign language to his war buddy. "Sam this is Balthazar. The shmuck I told you about from the photo of our company." That earned him a soft punch to the arm. Gabriel laughed. "And Balthy, this is Sam Winchester."

"…Winchester?" Powder blue eyes flicked over to his, giving Gabriel a 'you're screwing our dead comrade's little brother?' kind of look.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Sam extended one large hand, which Balthazar shook firmly.

"Sir? Please, boy, I'd rather not feel as old as I am. Call me Balthy. Everyone else does." He dragged over a third chair from a neighbouring table and patted the seat. "Plant your ass here."

When Sam made a move to sit, Ruby shot them all a glare. "No room for the lady?"

"Oh, there's plenty of room," Balthazar smiled pleasantly. "But you're no lady, and all three of us here are happily taken men." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Kindly scram, would you?"

Ruby looked applauded, but when she turned to Sam for some kind of defence, he offered none and she stormed away in a huff. Gabriel couldn't suppress the smirk of pride and threw all caution to the wind as he reached under the table to gently squeeze at Sam's thigh. The boy flushed deeply in response.

"Wait… You're taken?" Gabriel asked Balthazar. "I thought you came here to window shop because you were a single man."

"Just because I'm reserving my loins for when that saucy little minx over at the diner finally succumbs to my charms doesn't mean I can't allow my eyes a little fun."

Gabriel nearly inhaled his entire cigarette as he laughed.

"So, Sam," Balthazar folded his arms on the table. "Tell me about yourself."

Gabriel tuned out of the conversation at this point, and while Sam and Balthazar chattered on, he focused solely on the feel of Sam's strong thigh still under the palm of his hand. At this point, Gabriel really didn't care who saw. After the fiasco with Ruby, the soldier's possessive streak was flaring. Sam's muscles were taut and tense under the thin trouser fabric, and Gabriel gave him another squeeze, earning a hitch of breath from the boy.

It wasn't until the word "therapist" was uttered that Gabriel snapped out of the hazy fog of desire and shot a dark look in Balthazar's direction. "Come again?"

The blonde shrugged, draining his beer in one final sip. "I asked Sam if you had considered going to a therapist yet to help with your night terrors. I forgot to tell you last night that there's an excellent one just outside of town. I'd gone to see him after returning from the war because my doctor recommended it. He's a bit of a snarky thing, but he's good at what he does."

Gabriel smashed out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray at the center of the table. His voice was a sharp bite. "It hasn't been a subject of discussion, no."

"I think it's a great idea," Sam chimed in. "A therapist will understand all the aspects of Post Traumatic Disorder and know the best route to take in getting you better."

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek. "Talking about my problems isn't going to make them go away."

"Neither is ignoring them." Sam frowned deeply.

The soldier stared between the two sets of pleading eyes, and pushed his chair away from the table. He stood, and gathered up his jacket. "I need some air."

He was gone before Sam could utter a single protest, shoving through the crowds of drunken people and limping up the creaky wooden steps that led to the outside world. A gust of almost warm wind greeted him at the door, and he staggered out into the dark alleyway next to the abandoned old factory, boots slick on the ground that was more sleet than snow. He pressed his brow to the cold, rough brick wall and shut his eyes, listening to the gentle roar of a passing car and the faint echo of saxophone that managed to carry itself to him from the depths of the club. Being an oddly warm late November night, a light ice rain was falling around him, a few drops seeping beneath the fabric of his jacket collar to run a shivering trail down the line of his bare spine.

Something was bubbling at the pit of his stomach. Anger? Frustration? Desperation, maybe? Gabriel didn't know. He was just so exhausted. So mentally and emotionally exhausted.

"Gabe…?" Sam's soft voice sounded off over the gentle patter of ice rain, and Gabriel glanced over his shoulder as the boy approached him slowly. "I didn't mean to upset you so much."

Gabriel sighed in exasperation. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "Why the hell are you so focused on my bullshit problems, kiddo?"

"What?" Sam frowned.

"Ever since I waltzed into your life, I've just given you more reasons to lay awake at night worrying." Gabriel swallowed hard. "Your brother died six months ago. You fell apart when it happened, and just when things were starting to look up, I show up and linger over your head with all my issues like some big black raincloud."

"N-no, no that's not…" Sam reached out and took Gabriel's hands in both of his. "That's not true, Gabe. Things only started to look up _after_ you came into my life. You helped me so much, and I just want to do the same for you."

"You should be focusing on getting into Stanford, Sam." Gabriel said. "Your future is so bright, and I don't want to hold you back."

Sam leaned in, resting his forehead against the soldier's and gazing so deeply into Gabriel's eyes it took his breath away. "It's not a future without you."

"Damn it, Sam…"

"Shut up," Sam curled his fingers into the leather of Gabriel's pilot's jacket. "No more of this. I made my decision. Stanford can wait. I have a lifetime to get in. No matter what your issue with therapists is, it doesn't hurt to try at least once. It's our best shot, and I don't care how many times I have to beg until you finally decide to go. I'll keep begging. I won't stop until you're okay, Gabriel, because though Stanford can wait, your illness won't. I'll blame myself every single day if I ever lost you to it."

Gabriel's throat was clogged tight with emotion, and the ice rain had soaked their hair until it clung to their faces. "You're making a mistake."

"I don't care," Sam breathed. "I love you, and I don't care what you think, you stubborn bastard."

Wait. Hold the phone.

Gabriel's heart dropped, the echo of Sam's words lingering over his head. "You… w-what…?"

Sam was about to open his mouth to repeat himself, when the splash of approaching footsteps in the sleet alerted them both. Gabriel lifted his head, peering over Sam's head just in time to see two men emerging from the jazz club and strolling toward them. He didn't recognize either of their faces, but it didn't take much of his instincts to know the approach of a threat.

"Well, ain't this a disgraceful sight," the blonde one of the two spat. "Can't you disgusting bastards pick somewhere else to spread your filth?"

Sam straightened, brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"We saw you dancin' with Ruby," the second man, a short brunette, sneered. "Try and keep your hands off our women, would ya? We don't want them catching any of your faggot diseases and bringing them home to their real men."

Gabriel saw Sam start to move forward toward their harassers, but reached out and seized the boy's wrist to stop him. It was obvious these two men were drunk out of their skulls. Gabriel could smell the stench of alcohol coming off them as if they were sweating it. There would be no use getting into a pointless fight.

"Sam…" Gabriel whispered calmly. "Ignore them."

The blonde drunk grinned. "Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, nancy boy."

It was Gabriel's turn to be taken aback. He cocked his jaw to the side, the fingers of his free hand curling around the hilt of his knife, which was hidden inside his jacket. "Watch your tongue, buddy, lest you wanna lose it."

"Oooooh!" The blonde waved his hands comically over his head, pulling a snorting cackle from his shorter companion. "I'm so scared! Whata'ya gonna do, fag?"

Sam yanked his wrist out of Gabriel's grip and started forward, his form towering over the other two men like a brick wall of tense muscle. "How about you screw the hell off." Sam snarled. "We weren't bothering you to begin with."

"You were touching each other in the club," the short one said with repulsion. "The fact that I had to see that nearly made me lose my breakfast."

"No one said you had to look," Sam grinned slowly. "Unless you couldn't help it. We were pretty discrete. You had to have looked pretty damn close."

"The hell are you implyin'?"

Gabriel had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Sam."

Sam ignored the soldier and lowered his voice. "Maybe you liked watching us."

That one earned the kid the expected collision of knuckles to his face. Sam staggered backward with the strength of the blow, tumbling to the ground as blood spattered the sleet around him. He groaned in pain, clutching his nose, while the open gash on his lip painted his mouth and chin bright crimson.

The two drunks weren't laughing anymore. They were pissed, repulsed by Sam's accusations, but then Gabriel came forward, knife unsheathed and blade catching the light from the nearby street lamp. He stood between Sam and the men who had the gall to harm him in front of an armed soldier; a soldier who was trained to kill, a soldier who would gladly spill blood in order to keep him safe. He white-knuckled the hilt, watching as slow smirks of amusement emerged on the faces of the two men.

"I'm giving you one last warning." Gabriel glared. "Go back to your booze and whores and pick a fight with someone who gives a shit."

"You should put that knife away before you end up hurting yourself." The brunette snickered.

Gabriel caught sight of movement by the club doors and smiled pleasantly. "What's wrong? Scared of a homo cutting up your pretty faces?"

"I ain't scared of nothin', especially a faggot."

The soft click of a pistol being cocked echoed over the howl of winter wind, and the tall blonde barely had a moment to react before the cold tip of a gun barrel was pressed flush to his temple.

"Then be afraid of me," Balthazar smiled, though something dark flashed in his powder blue eyes. "I have no qualms with painting the pavement with your brain matter, mate."

"You wouldn't dare," the blonde's voice cracked.

"Oh no?" Balthazar's finger hovered dangerously over the trigger. "Thing is: I know how to hide the evidence. By the time they find you and your little companion here, you'll be rotting skeletons that'll be impossible to identify."

Gabriel felt Sam's fingers curl into the fabric of his trousers, tugging softly to get his attention. The soldier looked down, noticing the trickle of blood that still poured from both of Sam's nostrils, and the way Sam's split lip was already swelling. Even the flesh around his eyes was beginning to bruise. Gabriel reached down and brushed his free hand through the boy's hair, while the other still held the knife at the ready, prepared for anything.

The brunette was watching, his nose wrinkling at the moment of affection between Gabriel and Sam. He glanced sidelong at Balthazar, chest swelling with furious breath. "You're really willing to defend these freaks?"

"I'd do anything for them," Balthazar's eyes narrowed. "Now, how about you two scurry back into your little holes before I have to prove that."

Luckily, the two drunkards weren't as idiotic as they seemed, and turned to stumble back into the jazz club, Balthazar's gun and Gabriel's blade still aimed in their direction until they disappeared behind the door.

Gabriel released a heavy breath and sheathed his knife. "Thanks, Balth."

"Always have your back, even off the battlefield, General." Balthazar smirked, lowering his gun.

Gabriel dropped to his knees in the wet slush next to Sam and cupped his face in his hands. The boy winced softly as the soldier examined his face. "You alright?"

"M'fine…" Sam sniffled and coughed, nose and throat clogged with blood. "My nose isn't broken, is it?"

"Nah. Just a little swollen." Gabriel smiled crookedly, and then pressed a soft kiss to the boy's brow. "You're okay."

"Are _you_?" Sam asked softly.

Gabriel didn't know how much his hands were shaking until Sam covered them with his own and steadied them with a squeeze. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken."

"I've got some tissues in my car. They're not much, but they should get Sam cleaned up for now," Balthazar strode forward and helped Gabriel get Sam back onto his feet. "C'mon, lets get you two home and out of the rain."


	10. Part 10

"Head back, kiddo. Little further… Don't worry, I gotcha. Yeah. Nice and easy. Not hurting you, am I?"

Sam shook his head against the mountain of tissues Gabriel was currently pressing against his bloodied nostrils. His neck was aching terrible from the bad angle, and he had to resist the urge to cough and choke as the blood drained from his nasal cavity and down the back of his throat. He groaned softly when the car hit a slight bump in the road, rattling his skull and only making his headache feel even worse.

Gabriel, who was practically straddling Sam's lap in the back seat of Balthazar's car, peered over his shoulder at the driver. "Could you possibly take it a bit slower on the roads there, Balthy?"

Powder blue eyes rolled haughtily in the reflection of the rear-view mirror. "The boy's got a bloody nose, not a concussion."

"Just slow it down," Gabriel said testily.

With an exasperated sigh, Balthazar obeyed his General's orders. "Oh, and don't try any funny business back there, you two. I just had those seats reupholstered."

Sam couldn't suppress the chuckle, which sounded more like a gurgle, given the fact that his throat was clogged with all sorts of unpleasant things. He wanted to spit it out, clear his airways, but there was no chance in hell he could do that in a damn car. Biting back his disgust, he swallowed down what he could, relief flooding over him when most of the blood was gone.

Gabriel dabbed gingerly at his nose, and Sam stared up at him with hooded eyes, watching the way the passing golden lights of the city cast harsh shadows across the soldier's face. He reached a hand up, and brushed the backs of his fingers down Gabriel's cheek. The slight stubble he found there was rough against his skin.

The soldier visibly eased into his touch, shoulders sagging as he let out a breath. "I'm sorry… 'bout all this."

Sam shook his head slowly, his voice nasally. "Not your fault."

"Kinda is, kiddo," Gabriel removed the bloodstained tissues and examined the boy's nose, peering up into his nostrils in a way that Sam found unbearably adorable. "I shouldn't have caused such a fuss over you guys talking about a therapist. I overreacted. You were just trying to help." He plucked a few more fresh tissues from the box on the seat next to him, and cleaned up the remnants of dried blood on Sam's skin. "If I hadn't stormed out, those two bastards wouldn't have followed us and picked a fight."

"You're reading too much into this." Sam said.

"Am not," Gabriel cocked his jaw to one side and brushed his thumb across the gash in Sam's bottom lip, causing him to wince. "I'm sorry, anyways."

Sam leaned up and silenced the soldier with a short kiss, ignoring the pain that split second of pressure caused to his mouth. "You're forgiven. Now quit apologizing."

Gabriel smiled, then, easing himself off of the kid's lap, and Sam almost whined at the loss of comforting warmth and weight. He took a slight sniff, testing his airways out, and was glad to find them clear. He turned, tucking his head into the nook between Gabriel's neck and shoulder, like a small child seeking comfort and protection. The soldier smelled of lingering cigar smoke and whiskey from the jazz club, and the freshness of the ice rain. Sam breathed it in, letting his injured lips travel across Gabriel's pulse point, drawing a visible shudder from the soldier.

"What'd I say about no funny business?" Balthazar glared half-heartedly at them from the front seat.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Balth." Gabriel smirked.

Headache only starting to ease, Sam shut his eyes and buried his nose in the warm, damp fur that made up the collar of Gabriel's pilot's jacket. He allowed the motion of the moving car and the gentle roar of the engine lull him away into a state of half-sleep. Pleasant images played like a film reel behind his closed lids, letting Sam drift away into memories of reading bedtime stories with Dean, of making hot chocolate with his Aunt Ellen, of just this morning when he and Gabriel had spent hours tangled up in each other. It was short-lived, unfortunately, and Sam found himself gingerly shaken awake by Gabriel when the car pulled up outside the soldier's little apartment.

"Last stop," Balthazar parked the vehicle and turned in his seat to face them. "How's our patient doing?"

"I think he'll live," Gabriel answered.

Sam cracked his broad shoulders, mumbled a soft thank you to the blonde soldier in the front seat, and slipped out of the car. A blast of icy wind greeted him, and he tucked his hands into the opposite sleeves of his coat, trudging through the snow to the front steps where he patiently waited for Gabriel to finish saying his good-byes. Sam wasn't sleepy, per say. It would be rather ridiculous, given the fact that he'd spent the entire day passed out on the floor in front of a crackling fire. Physically worn from the evening's events would be more the term for it.

A hand at the small of his back alerted him of Gabriel's presence, and Sam smiled as the soldier reached around him, slipped the key into the lock, and eased the front door open. The boy didn't get so much as five steps inside the darkened apartment, when he was suddenly pushed back against the hallway wall, and Gabriel's tongue was licking into his mouth, slow and hot and perfect, drawing a whimper from Sam.

Gabriel broke the kiss, small fingers tracing along the long column of Sam's neck. "Tonight didn't really go exactly as planned, did it?"

"It's fine," Sam smiled, pushing the tips of their noses together. "Hey, maybe my lip will scar. I'll have a battle wound just like you."

Something flickered in the gold of the soldier's eyes as soon as Sam said that, something warm and bright and utterly dazzling. "It all got me thinking, y'know? I did a lot of thinking in the car on the way here."

"Did you?" Sam slowly undid Gabriel's pilot's jacket, pushing it off his shoulders to land on the carpet beneath them. "About what?"

"I'll do it."

Sam furrowed his brows, head cocking in confusion and slight curiosity. He worked the buttons of Gabriel's shirt open, revealing the sinewy body underneath, and he began to caress the soft skin there with the backs of his fingers. "Do what, Gabe?"

Gabriel took Sam's hands in his, stilling them while meeting his eyes in a serious expression. "I'll…" he swallowed. "…I'll see a therapist."

The boy was sure his heart dropped right there. He could barely find his voice. "G-Gabriel…"

"I'm doing it for you," The soldier stated. "No one else. Not even me. If there is any chance this guy can fix me, make me better, I'll do it all for you."

Sam pulled his hands from Gabriel's loose grasp, only to grab hold of his face and push their mouths together. There was a sharp bite of pain at his lip, but he didn't care. All that mattered was this, right here, right now. Him, and Gabriel, and the shot that this brave soldier would finally be given the chance at peace after so long.

Gabriel panted against his mouth, and spoke in a trembling whisper. "Did you mean it? What you said back in the alley?"

Sam didn't need to think back to know what Gabriel was referring to. As heat rose up into his face, he kissed him again, slower, stealing the breath right from the soldier's lungs. "Yes. With all my heart."

"You're sure?" Gabriel was smiling, but there were tears evident in his amber eyes. "Cause you can back out right now if you like. You gotta know that I'm a total mess, both mentally and emotionally. My nightmares probably won't go away completely, I'll have mood swings, I snore when I sleep, and I leave my clothes lying around, and I really like terrible movies and chocolate and bacon on ice cream, and I'm not—"

Sam cut him off with a look. "I don't care."

"We won't be able to get married," Gabriel continued. "We can't hold hands in public, or dance, or kiss. No one will be able to know about us, except Balth and your uncle."

"Still don't care. I know what this is, what you are, what I'm getting into, and I want it. All of it. The good and the bad." Sam pressed their foreheads together.

Gabriel looked up at him, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes while a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Then, I guess… You're stuck with me, because I love you, too. I love you so Goddamn much, it ain't right."

Nothing more needed to be said, then, because Sam was kissing Gabriel again, and pushing him backwards toward the den. They stumbled clumsily, tripping over each other, bumping into walls and nearly knocking a damn table over. Kisses were broken by little chuckles into each other's mouths, while hands scrambled to break through fabric to get to hot, aching skin beneath. Fingers explored, gripping and caressing, worshipping shoulders and arms, hips, backs, memorizing every contour and line of muscle of the other man.

Sam fell backwards into the nest of blankets and pillows with a sharp yelp of a laugh. His trousers were undone, and only halfway down his thighs. His hair was knotted and sticking out in tufts from Gabriel's fingers running through them, and his lip was throbbing to the point of feeling numb. He watched, pecs rising and falling rapidly, as Gabriel went over to the wood burning stove and started up a fire, filling the darkened room with warmth and the inviting sound of crackling flames. The scars on the soldiers back stood out in the dancing light, each one a reminder of selfless bravery and perseverance and strength; aspects that Sam had fallen in love with right from the start.

When Gabriel returned to his side, only clad in his boxers, he helped the boy out of his trousers and curled up next to him. "You tired?"

"No," Sam admired how the light danced in Gabriel's eyes. "You?"

"Not at all."

The soldier tickled his fingers across the plane of Sam's chest, tracing across every bump and ridge, running over his collar bone and across each pec, thumbs making sure to pay special attention to the pert, dusky nipples they found there, strumming until a gasp was pulled from the boy. Sam let his eyes fall closed, letting Gabriel's fingers roam. They felt each bump of his ribs under his skin, tickled their way down his belly.

"You're beautiful, kiddo," He heard Gabriel breathe against his cheek.

Sam's attempted response was lost when a pair of soft, knowing lips found the hollow of his throat and began kissing. He shut his eyes, humming as Gabriel's kisses traveled down the long line of Sam's throat, and kept going. He kissed his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, the moisture of his mouth lingering on Sam's skin, making him shiver in the slowly warming air of the den. Gabriel was meticulous in his work, almost lazy, as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses over every inch of taut flesh, nipping and then soothing with a swipe of tongue. Sam was almost certain that every nerve in his body was buzzing. Each kiss sent what felt like a jolt of lightning right through Sam's veins, searing him from the inside out.

He curled long fingers into one of the nearest quilts surrounding them, the other hand playing through the soldier's hair. Sam adored Gabriel's hair, the strands smooth and soft and the color of warm caramel gliding across his palm and fingers. He massaged blunt fingers into the soldier's scalp, which rewarded Sam with a low purr from his lover.

When Gabriel paused right above the waistline of Sam's boxers, he lifted his head, and met Sam's nervous expression with heavy-lidded eyes of liquid honey. "May I?"

Two words. Two simple words which made up a request bigger than Sam could possibly imagine, and the boy's heart was slamming up against his ribcage to the point of it being difficult to breathe. He studied Gabriel's face in the light of the fire, fingers moving from his hair to the angular line of his jaw. This was a man he trusted beyond compare, a man who had already seen him cracked open and bare and vulnerable, and hadn't judged him for it. A man who had, in turn, trusted Sam with his own body and heart, even after suffering through unforgiving times that required he close himself off from the world. The man who had allowed himself to open up to a broken nineteen year old boy who had given up on his future after the death of his brother. The man who put that boy back together again.

This was the man Sam loved. The man he wanted to be with in every way.

Swallowing hard, Sam nodded, tracing the soldier's plush lips with his thumb. "Please."

Gabriel placed a sweet kiss to Sam's navel, and hooked two fingers under the elastic of Sam's boxers. The boy lifted his hips, allowing Gabriel to tug the cotton down his legs and off. They'd already seen each other bare, had slept and curled up against each other with nothing separating their heated skin, and yet Sam still felt embarrassed, familiar heat reaching his cheeks when amber eyes drank him in.

"Quit looking at me like that," Sam grumbled bashfully.

A wide, cheeky grin spread across Gabriel's features. "Like what?"

"Like you want to eat me up."

The soldier smirked, pink tongue peeking out to lick hungrily at his lips. He leaned in, incredibly close, and bathed the dip of Sam's hip with his warm, tickling breath. "And what would be wrong with that?"

Sam hissed, already half-hardened, and Gabriel's teasing was in no way helping. He writhed, legs becoming tangled in the quilts as the soldier ran his mouth across Sam's hips and thighs, pecking kisses and nuzzling his nose into every nook and crevice except the one where Sam wanted him the most.

"G-Gabe… please…"

Deft fingers suddenly skimmed over Sam's cock, and the boy released a strangled moan that filled the quiet spaces of the small apartment. He could feel himself twitch at the feather-light contact, craving more, seeking desperate friction. His cock was resting against his belly, hardening with each passing moment, clear droplets of moisture beading at the tip and smearing over his skin every time he shifted.

When Gabriel suddenly leaned in and nuzzled at the warm, aching flesh with his nose and lips, Sam gasped sharply, hips jerking off the floor. A small, but strong hand flattened itself on his belly, keeping the boy still while moist lips ran themselves over Sam's cock at a pace that was so slow, Sam almost sobbed.

"Gabriel…"

"Look at you," Gabriel's breath was hot, teasing. "You're unravelling right before my eyes, kiddo. You're so gorgeous when you're like this." He pressed the pad of his tongue to Sam's skin and lapped him up. "I bet I can barely touch you and still keep you going for hours. Drive you insane."

Gabriel was definitely right about that. Anymore teasing, and Sam was certain he was going to lose his ever-loving mind. He curled his fingers into the soldier's hair, trusting him with his body, letting him do as he pleased with Sam. Gabriel seemed to understand this, because he was suddenly taking Sam into his mouth, swallowing him up, lips tight and warm and just enough to make the kid cry out into the silence. The soldier was attentive, tongue running along the underside of Sam's cock and dipping into the slit at the tip, tasting him, making him writhe until he could no longer find his breath. Those knowing fingers curled themselves around the base, kneading at the flesh that couldn't be swallowed.

"Ohh…" Sam's eyes rolled back into his head. "Oh God, Gabriel."

The soldier then released him with a wet pop, and crawled up over Sam's body, making him whimper as his slowly blooming release was denied, and left to die away. He let his long legs fall open, allowing Gabriel's smaller body to fit snugly between them as though he's always belonged there. Gabriel kissed his lips sweetly, and Sam saw the love swimming in the amber depths of his eyes, like the embers that still managed to glow brightly in the blackened ash of a fire pit.

"I want to make love to you," Gabriel whispered. "Will you let me?"

Sam looked up at him and swallowed hard. He didn't even have to think twice about his answer. "Yes."

Gabriel's mouth was on the hollow of his throat, then, while strong hands kneaded at the lean muscle in the boy's thighs, parting his legs ever further. His voice was a vibration against Sam's adam's apple. "It'll hurt at first, and I don't have any lubrication with me, but I'll be slow and as gentle as possible. I promise. And you can stop me anytime you'd like."

"I trust you," Sam breathed.

The soldier nodded once, and slipped two fingers into his mouth, slicking them up with his own saliva without breaking eye-contact with the boy beneath him. Sam swallowed hard, watching intently as those fingers disappeared passed plush lips, reminding him far too much of what Gabriel had been doing between his legs only minutes before. He whimpered and shifted where he laid, the throbbing ache in his length feeling all the more noticeable.

The sudden brush of a slickened fingertip at his virgin entrance had Sam trembling in anticipation, his nervousness eased by more sweet kisses from the soldier, and the whispered command for him to relax, and try to breathe. When the finger pressed in, Sam immediately felt himself clench against the unfamiliar invasion, but Gabriel was right there with him, keeping still until the boy's body became accustomed to the sensation.

"Breathe…" Gabriel was whispering. "Don't tense up. Yeah… that's it. Don't worry, I won't go in any further until you're ready."

Sam was trying to control his erratic breathing. The pain was a sharp bite within him, enough to trap his breath in his throat, but it wasn't long-lasting. Just as it began to dissipate, Gabriel pushed in further, adding a second finger and a whole new level of pain for Sam to ease through. The soldier was incredibly patient, allowing Sam to ride the waves of pain and pleasure combined, slick fingers curling and scissoring and stretching the boy to his limit, preparing him for what was soon to come. He thrust them in at an agonizingly slow pace, tips suddenly brushing against a hidden bundle of nerves that had Sam bucking and crying out.

"Oh! G-Gabriel, please!" Sam's hands searched desperately for purchase, before finding Gabriel's forearm and clenching onto it. "I can't take anymore!"

Gabriel nodded and slowly retracted his fingers from the boy's body. "Tell me what you want."

"You. W-want… need you." Sam panted. "I need you inside me."

Reaching out, he hooked his fingers into the soldier's boxers and gave them a steady tug downward. Gabriel laughed, seemingly amused with Sam's eagerness, and kicked his boxers away. He knelt between the boy's splayed legs, hardened and ready and just plain beautiful, and Sam couldn't resist reaching out to touch him. He brushed the tips of his fingers down the length of him, and received a small twitch in response. Gabriel's cock was thick, the flesh like velvet against Sam's palm, the crown glistening with moisture in the dancing firelight. He curled his fingers around him and stroked once, twice, pulling a moan from the soldier.

"Wet your hand," Gabriel murmured. "Just like I did with my fingers. I need to be slick to get inside you."

Sam nodded and licked his palm and fingers, slicking them up with saliva, before returning his hand to Gabriel's cock. He stroked slowly, wetting the skin, but it didn't seem like enough to the boy. Not enough moisture, not enough to make it comfortable for the both of them. He sat up and, without warning, took the soldier into his mouth. Gabriel just about fell backwards, his entire body bucking up into the tight, wet cavern of Sam's mouth, causing the boy to reach his hands around and cradle Gabriel's back.

"Ohh, God…" Gabriel dug the tips of his fingers into each of Sam's shoulders.

Sam sucked slowly, the pad of his tongue moving across hardened flesh pulsating with heat and want, soaking the skin. Gabriel's flesh was warm, and tasted of musk and saltiness. A flavour Sam craved with each passing second that it soaked his tongue. He almost didn't want to stop.

"S-Sam, Sam, stop… k-kiddo…" Gabriel gently pushed him away, chuckling breathlessly. "You keep that up, and we won't even make it to the good part."

Sam blushed fiercely and lay back down on the blanket nest, watching as Gabriel crawled back into the nook between his legs. Just as the soldier began to position himself, Sam recalled something, and reached a hand out to stop him.

"Wait," he whispered.

Gabriel's brow creased with concern. "What's wrong?"

Sam sat up, large hands falling to rest on each of Gabriel's hips, thumbs tracing over the lean muscle there. "Your knee… I don't want you kneeling the entire time. It'll hurt you."

Gabriel smiled and shook his head. "I'll be okay."

"No," Sam said, and with one gentle move, he rolled them both over, pinning the soldier down onto the soft blankets. Sam climbed up, straddling his lap. "Like this. We'll do it like this."

Gabriel stared up at him, and spoke softly. "When are you going to quit worrying about me so much?"

Sam leaned in, nuzzling a kiss to the other man's lips. "The day I stop loving you with every breath in my body."

The kiss grew fierce, desperate; Gabriel's hands fisting through the back of Sam's chocolate hair and tongues sparring until all they could taste, smell, feel, was each other. Bracing his arms on either side of the soldier's shoulders, Sam lifted himself up, and positioned himself over Gabriel's waiting cock. He could feel his heart battering against his ribs, sounding off like a drum beat in his ears.

"I-I'm… I'm ready…" Sam swallowed his nerves.

"Deep breaths, just like before," Gabriel said. "You're in control. Ease down as slow as you need. I won't move an inch until you tell me to."

Feeling the slick head of Gabriel's cock brush against his virgin entrance, Sam took a moment to breathe, to ease himself, before slowly sinking down and taking the soldier inside him. It was just like what Sam had felt with Gabriel's fingers, only amplified by a thousand, pain and pleasure combined in a soul-jarring impact. With each inch of the soldier Sam took inside, he felt himself stretch, inner muscles contracting as they attempted to open up for the unexpected girth that invaded the boy's body. Gabriel's eyes were shut, mouth hanging open in silent moan while his hands kneaded the muscle of Sam's thighs.

"S-Sam…" Gabriel hissed through clenched teeth. "T-tight… you're tight."

Sam whimpered, but didn't stop until Gabriel was fully sheathed within him. He stopped then, trembling, electric jolts of pleasure and pain searing him from the inside out and turning his mind to mush. His body adjusted, slowly but surely, and Sam finally gathered up the courage to move, rocking slowly atop his soldier. Pressure and release, pressure and release, over and over until the pain began to die away and bloom in to mind-numbing pleasure.

Flattening his feet on the floor, Gabriel bent his knees up and lifted his hips, meeting each of Sam's slow rocks downwards with a gentle thrust of his own. As the crackling fire filled the room with heat, a thin sheet of sweat began to build on their bodies, causing their skin to glisten in the light as though soaked from a summer rain. Sam found Gabriel's hands and held them, fingers entwining, the gesture that had connected them from the very start.

He stared down at his lover, at the way his caramel hair fanned out around his head like a halo, at the lust and love and longing burning in the amber depths of his eyes, at the way his scarred chest rose and fell with panted breath.

"You take my breath away," Sam whispered.

Gabriel smiled, releasing one of Sam's hands to reach up and draw the boy downward into a kiss. Sam stayed like that, draped over his lover, elbows rested on either side of Gabriel's head as they swallowed each other's gasps and groans with sweet kisses. The soldier's calloused hands cupped Sam's behind, stilling him so that he could control the movement between them, hips coming up quicker, skin slapping against skin and pulling a shuddering cry from the boy.

There was no telling how long they kept at this, making passionate love in the light of the flickering fire, and making up for all those moments where pain and hopelessness seemed to be all that surrounded them. Each touch, each kiss, seemed to heal their broken bodies and hearts, patching up the wounds inflicted by so much loss. Incoherent words fled from their mouths that neither man could hear. They were both bubbling over, their emotions and senses clashing into one hefty whirl of passion. Nothing was enough; they were both exhausted, but unwilling to stop the pleasure between them.

Not until their muscles froze and their voices choked through long, blissful cries. The rapture of their releases cut through them like a knife, stabbing at them marvelously until it all-too-soon crept away and loosened their blazing bodies without mercy. Sam collapsed onto his lover, face buried into his shoulder, sticky body writhing in the afterglow. Still connected, they enfolded each other in arms and legs, noses and lips pressed against salty skin until there was no telling where one body ended and the other began.

They were drowning in each other, and wasn't that just the most perfect way to die.


	11. Part 11

Gabriel's eyes squinted against the glare of blinding sunlight reflected on the window next to him, the world outside a blur as the bus roared down the unfamiliar road. His warm breath fogged up the icy window, and he swiped the condensation clear with his jacket sleeve, peering out at the passing shops and restaurants and figures of men and women and children trudging through the snowy streets.

Around him, bus passengers sat quietly as they awaited the arrival of their stop. Two young girls chatted excitedly over an open fashion magazine, a sharply dressed gentleman with salt and peppered hair casted longing glances to the back of the bus, where a lovely blonde woman crinkled her nose as she concentrated on a book she was reading, an older couple held hands as they enjoyed the passing scenery, a teenaged boy with a ratty brown cap whistled a soft tune as he scratched dried lavender paint from his trousers. Gabriel sank back in the uncomfortable bus seat, pulling the fur collar of his pilot's jacket up over his chin before he crossed his arms over his chest.

Sam was sitting next to him, nose buried in a book, long lanky legs crossed in front of him. His scarf was wrapped twice around his neck, but Gabriel could still see hints of the love bites and bruises he'd left peeking out from beneath the wool from their session of lovemaking in the bath this morning. The soldier didn't even remember breakfast, his brain was still fogged from it. He could almost still taste the flavour of soap suds and water and Sam's hot flesh on his tongue. Reaching up, he adjusted the material to hide the marks he'd left on the boy, wanting no one to see them. They were only for Gabriel's eyes.

A hazel gaze tore away from the book to look over at him, a slow smile spreading across blissfully exhausted features. "How're you doing?"

"I'm discretely freaking out."

Sam chuckled and clapped his book shut. He patted the soldier's shoulder, knowing anything more intimate would cause unwanted attention. "Like I told you a thousand times since we woke up: it'll be fine. You've been through far worse situations than this."

Gabriel grunted. "I'm still not entirely convinced this'll do anything for me."

"You're a man of action. That's who you are," Sam shrugged. "The fact that this requires nothing but talking bothers you."

The soldier fiddled with a stray thread on the hem of his sweater. "Mental issues don't just magically vanish with fancy words."

"No, but maybe those fancy words will get you taking action and fixing those mental issues on your own."

Gabriel frowned deeply, turning his gaze toward the snowy world outside. The bus had come to a slow stop, letting out the attractive blonde and the teenaged boy. Gabriel huffed a sigh as he stared at a little bakery just outside the bus stop, admiring the cakes and pastries on display there. As much as he despised admitting it to himself, Sam was right.

"Tell you what," Sam suddenly said. "You go to this one session. Just this one. If you don't like it and you don't think this guy can really help you, you don't have to go to any more."

The soldier snapped his attention back to the boy, looking perplexed. "Really?"

"Of course. I mean, why would I put you through something that makes you uncomfortable? It won't help the problems you're already facing now." Sam played with the bent pages of his book. "Just go once, see what it's like, and we'll take it from there."

Gabriel felt his heart swell, and would've given anything to be able to lean over and kiss his young lover. "You're incredible, you know that?"

"So you've told me," Sam smirked, eyeing him out of the tail of his eye. He dove back into his book, and allowed their legs to brush together for a brief moment. "Just relax. We're almost there, anyways."

Gabriel tried to relax, he really did. Resting his head back against the seat, he shut his eyes and felt the sunlight bathe his face in comforting warmth. The bus moved steadily beneath him, a gentle rocking that eased his frazzled nerves, like the gentle cradle of a mother. All too soon it was ripped away, because Sam was nudging insistently at his knee and telling him that their stop was next. As the bus slowed, he and the boy rose to their feet and manoeuvred their way between the rows of crowded seats to the doors, where they climbed out and watched as the vehicle roared away in a plume of exhaust.

Sam adjusted the sling of the book bag on his shoulder and turned to adjust Gabriel's collar. While the boy fiddled, Gabriel stared over at the sign on the simple brick building next to them. Bold, elegant black lettering over a stark white background that read:

DR. CROWLEY McLEOD.

CLINICAL PSYTHOLOGIST AND COUNCELLOR.

The reality of the situation became all too clear at that point, and Gabriel found himself swallowing hard. He didn't like telling others his problems, letting them into his head, allowing them to delve into his thoughts and emotions. He despised weakness. He liked keeping closed up, protected from the judgement of others, as hard as stone. It's the façade he'd kept up all through the war, and was probably the reason he didn't go completely out of his mind. Sam was the only person who had seen him at his worst.

And now, here he was. Getting ready to see this Dr. McLeod, who was going to tear him wide open and expose all his vulnerabilities to the world. Perhaps call him insane and unfixable. It made Gabriel's stomach twist.

"You're sure you want to go through with this?" Sam asked, noticing the soldier's discomfort.

"Yeah… yeah, I am." Gabriel shook his head out. "I need to do this."

The boy took one of Gabriel's hands in both of his, and brought it to his lips to kiss. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do." Gabriel couldn't help the smile.

They approached the front doors of the office, and Gabriel took hold of the brass handle, but went no further than that. He kept his hand there, hesitating, needing to gather his wits about him. Sam stood patiently at his side, and then reached out, placing his larger hand over the soldier's, just like Gabriel had done for him when opening the door to Dean's room all those weeks ago.

"Together?" Sam said.

Gabriel felt his heart swell, and every ounce of uncertainty and fear melt away. "Together."

Using their combined strength, they pushed the heavy wooden door open, and slipped inside the warmly lit office. Gentle record music greeted them, and dappled sunlight shining in through the small windows danced across the faded green flowered wallpaper and rich wooden crown moulding that wrapped around the entire room. Eight chairs lined the back wall, no doubt a waiting area for the patients, and a lovely blonde-haired receptionist sat behind a wooden desk that dwarfed her in its size. She was tapping away at her typewriter, stacks of paper and files at her side, along with a vase of fresh flowers and a cup of tea that had long ago gone cold.

After hanging up their coats on the rack by the door, Sam approached the desk, and the receptionist lifted her chocolate brown eyes in his direction, offering a slight smile and an arch of a thin brow. Her hair was short and styled in lovely sweeping waves. A pearl necklace wrapped around her slender throat, and she smelled of vanilla and spice.

"We're here to see Dr. McLeod." Sam said pleasantly. "We have an appointment for noon."

The blonde turned and sifted through her mound of papers to fetch her leather-bound appointment book. She leafed through the pages, and then nodded. "Gabriel Milton, is it?"

Gabriel limped up next to the desk. "That'd be me."

She nodded and gestured to the chairs. "Have a seat. Dr. McLeod will be right with you."

Sam thanked her and did as she bade, planting himself in one of the chairs and whipping out his book to resume reading. Gabriel, who felt far too jittery to sit, stood next to the boy and admired the paintings on the wall, scenes of roaring seascapes and flowery fields far away from here.

Suddenly, one of the tall wooden doors behind the desk swung open, and an older gentleman with striking features appeared, sharply dressed in a crisp black pinstriped suit. He was short in stature, probably around the same height as Gabriel, and had a full head of dark tousled hair that only just began to recede.

"Come in, Gabriel," He lifted his hand in invitation, voice as velvety and heavily accented as Balthazar's, but carrying a slight and attractive rasp to it.

Gabriel exchanged one last look with Sam, before following Dr. McLeodd into his office, door swinging quietly shut behind them. The room was large, spears of sunlight slicing across the walls and elegantly carpeted floor from between the blinds on the windows. Filled bookcases lined the space, which had carried the same wallpaper and rich wood from the front room, and a desk sat near the back corner, where certificates and diplomas hung proudly on the wall around it. Gabriel noted the two long plush couches at the very center of the room, and assumed one of them was for him.

Dr. McLeod reached out and grasped onto Gabriel's hand, shaking it firmly. "I'm glad you met with me, Gabriel."

The soldier quirked his head, returning the shake. "You are?"

"You're one of the only soldiers in your Company that didn't come to see me after returning from overseas." Dr. McLeod smirked slightly, the light glinting over intelligent hazel eyes. "Balthazar told me about you, as did Chuck."

Gabriel grunted. "Loudmouths."

"Take a seat," Dr. McLeod gestured to the couches, and then went to fetch what he needed from his desk. "It sounds like you were quite reluctant to see me. Why is that?"

"I don't really believe in your practice," Gabriel stated as he lowered himself onto the soft, comfortable cushions. "Call me skeptical, but therapy doesn't really seem like the kind of thing that makes mental problems go away."

"How wonderful to know that all my years of schooling have gone into a useless career."

Gabriel winced. Balthazar hadn't been lying when he stated that this guy was snarky. "I didn't mean it like that."

Dr. McLeod returned with a notebook and elegant black pen, and took a seat across from the soldier. "Believe it or not, your skepticism is quite common."

"Yeah?" Gabriel asked, feeling slightly better.

"Most people don't understand my line of work. We're in the post-war era, and that causes people to believe that action is the best course for change." He cocked a brow. "Guns and bombs may rid you of the physical problem, but the after effects still linger in the mind." He tapped his temple with his pen. "Am I correct?"

Gabriel shifted in his seat, recalling his night terrors. "…Yes."

"And that's where I come in. I'm the best at what I do, Gabriel. If anyone can change a skeptic's mind, it's me." Dr McLeod flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, and got comfortable. "Shall we get started?"

Gabriel took a steady breath, and nodded once.

"Tell me about the war."

The soldier took a moment to think, amber eyes trained on the flower pattern on the rug beneath his feet. He delved deep into his mind, pulling free the memories that had haunted him for so many months, had kept him awake and terrified for nights long after the blast of gunfire had died to silence; the dark reality of violence and loss, the painful understanding of what one twisted mind can do to an entire world. He dug deep, bringing everything to the surface after being pushed back for so long.

Then, he began to speak.

* * *

><p>NINE MONTHS LATER.<p>

Sam stumbled out of the bathroom, fluffy towel draped over his head as he dried his mop of chocolate hair. Cooling water dripped down the line of his bare back, puddling at his bare feet as he made his way down the narrow hallway back to his bedroom. Downstairs, he could hear Bobby and Jodi moving about the kitchen, preparing a massive breakfast that already began to fill the house with the scent of sizzling bacon and warm maple syrup.

Sam was beyond thankful for the presence of their long-time neighbour in the house. She had blessed the place with the warmth of a woman's touch that had died away long ago with the loss of Aunt Ellen, and had given Bobby a reason for happiness again.

There wasn't a single Friday night that went by where a seat stood empty at the dinner table.

Using his hip, Sam nudged his bedroom door open and padded inside, the air in the room still scenting of sweat and passion from the previous night. His hips and collarbone were still bruised from bites and kisses and gripping fingers, and his legs were still shaky and aching blissfully. Tossing the towel aside, he smiled at the snoring lump on his bed, a tuft of caramel hair sticking out from the mound of blankets. He sat on the edge of the mattress, tugged one blanket down, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his lover's warm nose.

"Mmph…" Gabriel grumbled and turned over, burying himself deeper in the cocoon.

"C'mon, lazy," Sam chuckled, gently shaking the soldier. "Up you get."

"Five more minutes," came the muffled reply.

Sam rolled his eyes with a smirk, and went to fetch some fresh clothes. In the nine months since Gabriel had first gone to see Dr. McLeod, the soldier's health and happiness had improved at a staggering level. Each week, he visited his therapist, and each week, his night terrors grew less and less frequent. They didn't completely vanish, no. There would be no way they could do that. Dr. McLeod had taught Gabriel a series of exercises to do whenever he woke from one of the terrors; sometimes he would need to breathe and speak calmly to himself to help distinguish reality from memory, others he would take a quick walk through the house to calm himself, it all depended on the severity of the dream. And soon came nights where the terrors didn't even happen at all.

Sam couldn't believe the changes that had been taking place. Gabriel had put on weight, filling out his body and looking healthier, stronger than he used to. The bags vanished from beneath his eyes, he had more energy, and even his limp was less noticeable. Not to mention the fact that he'd become wilder in bed, hungrier for Sam's touch, always eager to try new things that had the kid's mind in a state of hazy bliss for days afterward. Balthazar had even offered Gabriel a job across town, allowing the soldier to get out and become a part of society again. His life was back on track, and Sam couldn't have been happier for him.

Dressing quickly into a pair of slacks and light button-down, Sam brushed the tangles from his hair. The warm breeze of late August morning drifted into the bedroom from the open window, fluttering the curtains and carrying in the melodic call of birds and the laughter of children in the streets.

Near the bed, two suitcases lay open, filled with clothes, books, and everything else belonging to Sam. The boy did a quick double-check, to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind that he'd need in the months to come. As he sifted through the neatly folded clothes, he came upon something that had his throat clenching with emotion.

He'd taken the photograph from where it had been hanging in Dean's room, and had it nicely framed. It'd been sitting in his room for months, always within view whenever he needed it, and Sam knew he wouldn't be able to go anywhere without it. Brushing his fingertips across the glass, he admired the image beyond, the familiar faces of Dean, Balthazar, and Gabriel smiling back at him from where they stood next to their fellow comrades.

"I did it, Dean," Sam whispered softly. "I hope you're proud of me."

After setting the photograph snugly back into the case and clasping the thing shut, he noticed that Gabriel was sitting up in bed, watching him quietly.

"It's still eerie how you don't make any sound when you move," Sam chuckled.

"Call it a gift," the soldier smiled and reached out for him. When their hands met, Gabriel tugged Sam towards him, moving the kid to straddle his lap. "You doing okay, kiddo?"

Sam nodded, raking his fingers through his lover's mussed hair. "I'm great."

Gabriel placed sweet kisses to the exposed flesh of Sam's throat. "Mm… You smell like peppermint."

"I just showered," Sam purred. "Bobby and Jodi have breakfast waiting downstairs. We should probably join them."

The soldier pouted. "What time does your bus leave?"

"Nine."

"That's only an hour from now." Gabriel grumbled, strong arms locking around the boy's waist and squeezing possessively. "Doesn't exactly give us much time for a morning quickie."

Sam flushed a thousand shades of red, even after everything. "You're insatiable."

"Well, I ain't gonna see you as often anymore." Gabriel nipped Sam's chin. "Once a week with the exception of Christmas and summer break is hardly enough. I gotta savour you as much as possible."

Sam laughed, stealing a lingering kiss. "Mm, I think we both did plenty of savouring last night. Now, c'mon." He hopped off Gabriel's lap and tugged at the blankets. "Get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs."

Gathering up his suitcases, he marched downstairs and into the kitchen, where Jodi and his uncle awaited him with enough breakfast to feed an entire schoolhouse. Sam set his things by the front door, and took an offered cup of coffee, enjoying the way Jodi rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. She reminded Sam a lot of his aunt; a strong and lively woman with straight mahogany hair and bright doe-like brown eyes that just began to crinkle at the corners. She led Sam over to the table, where Bobby was busy pouring over the morning newspaper.

Gabriel joined them only minutes later, sliding into the seat next to Sam after planting a big kiss on Jodi's cheek and the very top of Bobby's balding head. The gruff man grumbled, though Sam caught the smile curling at the corners of his lips. They dug into the feast of toast, eggs, bacon, and pancakes laid out before them, filling the kitchen with excited chatter and laughter, everyone buzzing about the huge steppingstone in Sam's life.

Still, through the joy that lingered in the air, there was that sense of sadness that came with the fact that Sam wouldn't be around as much anymore. The boy was just thankful that his uncle had Jodi to keep him company in the months to come, and Gabriel had made a promise to come to dinner every Friday night, as per tradition, even if Sam wasn't there.

It was a blessing to know his family, his new family, would be just fine until he could come home again.

Once the plates were cleaned and the table was cleared, nine o'clock ticked close, and everyone made their way to the bus stop to bid Sam farewell. The morning was bright, the sky above cloudless and the deepest shade of blue Sam had ever seen. Hints of the approaching autumn began to show, touches of gold and red kissing the edges of the leaves in the lush trees. It reminded Sam of that one fall day almost a year ago, where a handsome amber-eyed soldier appeared at his doorstep with his fallen brother's army jacket, and changed his life forever.

He reached over and brushed hands with Gabriel, who was carrying his second suitcase. They locked eyes for a moment, and shared a knowing smile, there not needing to be words at the moment.

They could see the form of the approaching bus down the long stretch of road, and Sam took a deep breath, anticipation and excitement and nervousness all bubbling within him at once. He dropped his suitcase, and took time to embrace his uncle tightly, breathing in the scent of whiskey and motor oil on his sun-baked skin.

"Take care of yourself, kid," Bobby said into Sam's shirt. "I'm damn proud of ya."

Jodi was next, and there were tears in her eyes as she wrapped Sam in a suffocating hug, wishing him the very best of luck, and telling him sternly that he'd better call her once a week.

Without hesitation, Sam swept Gabriel up in his arms and kissed him, kissed him until neither of them had the breath to gasp, kissed him until the taste of the soldier was sure to stay on his lips and tongue for the long, lonely nights to come. He cradled Gabriel's face in his hands, pressed their foreheads together, and whispered for only him to hear.

"You'll visit me every weekend, right?"

"Every weekend." Gabriel vowed.

"And you'll still see Dr. McCloud on schedule?" Sam asked. "Make sure you stay healthy?"

"Believe me, I think he'd come after me with a wooden bat if I missed even one appointment." Gabriel smirked and curled his fingers into Sam's shirt. "You go off and do your lawyer thing. Kick some ass in Stanford. I'll be just fine, kiddo."

Sam nodded, and kissed him again. "I love you. I love you, I love you, and you'd better not forget that."

"I don't plan on it," Gabriel breathed. "I love you, too, Sam. So damn much."

As the bus rolled to a halt next to them, Sam parted from his lover and gathered up his suitcases. The metal doors squeaked open and, with one last glance backwards, he climbed up into the bus and took a seat right at the back. He set his bags on the ground by his feet, peered out the window and, as the bus began to move, waved farewell toward his family below, awaiting the day when he would finally see them all together again.

_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones,_

_And I will try to fix you…_


End file.
